To Die Alone
by Nestrik
Summary: Once titled "Natalie."Elizabeth's and Will's daughter turns out as no one could ever suspect- but how everyone should have expected her to be. Another pirate seeks revenge on the Black Pearl, a smuggler's son falls in love, and JACK!!!
1. Prologue

Prologue  
  
THE ROOM IN THE SHIP'S STERN WAS DARK, EVEN THOUGH THERE WERE CANDLES PLACED IN EVERY CORNER. The wind howled outside, and rain lashed against the portholes. Other than the perpetual sound of thunder, the only other sounds were those of the creaking of the ships wooden planks and the labored breathing of a woman who was lying on a table in the center of the small room.  
  
A man stood at the foot of the table, his hands between the woman's thighs. Occasionally he uttered an oath or two, but the other two people in the room (a woman sometimes whispering instructions in the doctors ear, and a man standing silently by the door) could not hear him over the violent storm.  
  
The door creaked open, illuminating a cloaked figure that looked imposing in the darkness of the corridor. He stepped into the room and stood besides the silent man.  
  
"Going well?" the newcomer asked.  
  
"You've never had to watch your wife give birth," the man answered tersely.  
  
"Aye." The cloaked newcomer nodded. "But I've seen me share of birthings. This one's not too bad to watch."  
  
At that moment something dark began to seep from under the woman on the table's nightgown. The standing woman smoothed her hair and began to sing softly, so softly that the two men in the corner doubted that the woman giving birth could even hear the tune. The ship's doctor wiped his brow. "Turn around, dammit!" he suddenly yelled. His hands were covered in the woman's blood.  
  
"The baby's head is in the back," the quiet man said to the cloaked newcomer. "He's trying to turn it around."  
  
"How're you staying calm?"  
  
"Shouldn't you be on deck steering the ship?" the man countered.  
  
The newcomer grinned, revealing three golden teeth. He patted the man on the shoulder. "Got someone else to do it for ten minutes, mate. Gave 'em me lucky compass. I had to come down to see you. She's my niece, after all, isn't she?"  
  
The man nodded. "You've been like a brother to me, Jack." He tried to grin, but quelled it as more blood seeped out from under the woman's stained nightgown. Only seven years on the sea could hold him back from crying out at the sight of so much blood.  
  
"Aye, its fine." The cloaked man patted the other man's shoulder. "She'll pull through, Will. She always does." He pulled a golden watch on a chain out from under his cloak. "She's been laboring nigh six hours now."  
  
Will nodded tersely. So much blood. Was she all right?  
  
"Hey, look, Will. It's your birthday." Indeed, the hands on the clock were both pointed at the twelve. It was September the third. Will nodded. Twenty-four years old and already a father- an infantile cry filled the room and the doctor lifted a bloody infant from between Elizabeth's legs. The woman wiped down the babe and placed it in Will's arms before rushing to Elizabeth's side. The doctor was already leaning over her.  
  
Will looked down at the baby. A beautiful baby girl that looked exactly like Elizabeth- the same cheekbones, the mouth. He started as his own eyes stared back at him from the small sockets- his own melancholy brown eyes.  
  
Jack Sparrow patted him on the shoulder. "They say babes only open their eyes once right after the birthin'. They take in all they can with that one glimpse. All she saw was you, mate. Aye. She's going to be an intelligent one. Never thought a deformed man could give birth to such a beautiful little one." Jack grinned.  
  
Will smiled down at his daughter. She had already stopped crying.  
  
A moan distracted him. Elizabeth! The doctor and the woman exchanged glances and backed away towards the other end of the table.  
  
"Will," Elizabeth whimpered. "Will."  
  
"Crikey! She's hemorrhaging!" the ship's doctor yelled.  
  
Will grasped her hand with his left, the babe dozing in the crook of his right arm. "Look, Elizabeth. A beautiful baby girl."  
  
"Will," Elizabeth slowly closed and opened her eyes. Her grip on his left hand tightened. "Will."  
  
"I'm here, love."  
  
Will looked into her eyes. They had changed since she had rid herself of the cursed medallion seven years before, when they were both eighteen. Elizabeth's eyes had a hollow quality to them, which was even more pronounced at this moment.  
  
Elizabeth Turner closed her eyes.  
  
Disclaimer- Elizabeth, Will, and Jack Sparrow belong to Disney. The baby girl is mine. ALL MINE! HAHAHAHAHAHA just review please. 


	2. Chapter One

Prologue  
  
THE ROOM IN THE SHIP'S STERN WAS DARK, EVEN THOUGH THERE WERE CANDLES PLACED IN EVERY CORNER. The wind howled outside, and rain lashed against the portholes. Other than the perpetual sound of thunder, the only other sounds were those of the creaking of the ships wooden planks and the labored breathing of a woman who was lying on a table in the center of the small room.  
  
A man stood at the foot of the table, his hands between the woman's thighs. Occasionally he uttered an oath or two, but the other two people in the room (a woman sometimes whispering instructions in the doctors ear, and a man standing silently by the door) could not hear him over the violent storm.  
  
The door creaked open, illuminating a cloaked figure that looked imposing in the darkness of the corridor. He stepped into the room and stood besides the silent man.  
  
"Going well?" the newcomer asked.  
  
"You've never had to watch your wife give birth," the man answered tersely.  
  
"Aye." The cloaked newcomer nodded. "But I've seen me share of birthings. This one's not too bad to watch."  
  
At that moment something dark began to seep from under the woman on the table's nightgown. The standing woman smoothed her hair and began to sing softly, so softly that the two men in the corner doubted that the woman giving birth could even hear the tune. The ship's doctor wiped his brow. "Turn around, dammit!" he suddenly yelled. His hands were covered in the woman's blood.  
  
"The baby's head is in the back," the quiet man said to the cloaked newcomer. "He's trying to turn it around."  
  
"How're you staying calm?"  
  
"Shouldn't you be on deck steering the ship?" the man countered.  
  
The newcomer grinned, revealing three golden teeth. He patted the man on the shoulder. "Got someone else to do it for ten minutes, mate. Gave 'em me lucky compass. I had to come down to see you. She's my niece, after all, isn't she?"  
  
The man nodded. "You've been like a brother to me, Jack." He tried to grin, but quelled it as more blood seeped out from under the woman's stained nightgown. Only seven years on the sea could hold him back from crying out at the sight of so much blood.  
  
"Aye, its fine." The cloaked man patted the other man's shoulder. "She'll pull through, Will. She always does." He pulled a golden watch on a chain out from under his cloak. "She's been laboring nigh six hours now."  
  
Will nodded tersely. So much blood. Was she all right?  
  
"Hey, look, Will. It's your birthday." Indeed, the hands on the clock were both pointed at the twelve. It was September the third. Will nodded. Twenty-four years old and already a father- an infantile cry filled the room and the doctor lifted a bloody infant from between Elizabeth's legs. The woman wiped down the babe and placed it in Will's arms before rushing to Elizabeth's side. The doctor was already leaning over her.  
  
Will looked down at the baby. A beautiful baby girl that looked exactly like Elizabeth- the same cheekbones, the mouth. He started as his own eyes stared back at him from the small sockets- his own melancholy brown eyes.  
  
Jack Sparrow patted him on the shoulder. "They say babes only open their eyes once right after the birthin'. They take in all they can with that one glimpse. All she saw was you, mate. Aye. She's going to be an intelligent one. Never thought a deformed man could give birth to such a beautiful little one." Jack grinned.  
  
Will smiled down at his daughter. She had already stopped crying.  
  
A moan distracted him. Elizabeth! The doctor and the woman exchanged glances and backed away towards the other end of the table.  
  
"Will," Elizabeth whimpered. "Will."  
  
"Crikey! She's hemorrhaging!" the ship's doctor yelled.  
  
Will grasped her hand with his left, the babe dozing in the crook of his right arm. "Look, Elizabeth. A beautiful baby girl."  
  
"Will," Elizabeth slowly closed and opened her eyes. Her grip on his left hand tightened. "Will."  
  
"I'm here, love."  
  
Will looked into her eyes. They had changed since she had rid herself of the cursed medallion seven years before, when they were both eighteen. Elizabeth's eyes had a hollow quality to them, which was even more pronounced at this moment.  
  
Elizabeth Turner closed her eyes.  
  
Disclaimer- Elizabeth, Will, and Jack Sparrow belong to Disney. The baby girl is mine. ALL MINE! HAHAHAHAHAHA just review please. 


	3. Chapter Two

~~~~~Chapter Two ~ ~~ ~~~ ~~ ~  
ED JONES WAS HAVING THE TIME OF HIS LIFE. Everything was going according to plan- they had even lined up a jeweler in Saint Charles who was willing to deal with stolen goods. He had promised a hefty sum, too. As Ed peered through the windows, unnoticed by the reveling noblemen, he saw the candlelight in the chandeliers reflect off of gold, jewels, and silver. Even the plates were ornate. Ed cackled and rubbed his hands together.  
  
"Why you laughin', mate?"  
  
Before Ed could move, he felt metal touch his throat. A dagger!  
  
"Yeah, big score tonight, lad," the voice continued. "You Ed Jones?"  
  
"Why the hell should I tell you?" Ed hissed. His spittle splattered the fine glass paned windows of the house.  
  
"Because, mate, its your life." The dagger pressed a little harder into his throat. Ed felt a single drop of blood make its way down to his shirt collar.  
  
"Yeah, I'm Ed Jones. Why d'you care?"  
  
"Ah, Mr. Jones. My name's Jack. Jack Sparrow. You can call me Captain Jack Sparrow."  
  
Ed tensed, and the voice that identified itself as the feared captain of the Black Pearl laughed.  
  
"Yes, mate. I had a run-in with your son. We're gonna take him on a little trip, savvy? He knows who we are, and so do you, but thieves don't tell on thieves, do they, mate?"  
  
"No," Ed whispered.  
  
"Good. Clear out your men."  
  
"Bloody hell no!" Ed said, trying to rise to his feet.  
  
"Keep it down, Ed." A hand pressed down on his shoulder, and Jack called out, "Hey, Will! Over here, mate. We got ourselves a feisty one."  
  
"Aye," a voice replied. For a moment hands were lifted and replaced back on Ed's shoulder and the dagger was removed and replaced in another hand, then and a man with long black hair, a moustache, and three golden teeth squatted down on the ground beside Ed.  
  
"You're going to remove all your friends, aye, mate? We have a reputation to keep. Big score, aye?"  
  
"Yeah," Ed growled. "That's why yer friend here's gonna remove his filthy paws from my shoul'er."  
  
"You're not getting the point."  
  
"Righto, mate, then give me the point," Ed growled.  
  
"The point is we've captured all of yer men and they're all in the brig on the Black Pearl," a man said, coming up from behind Jack.  
  
"Good job, Gibbs. Come along, now, mate. The brig's waitin' for you." Captain Jack Sparrow stood up and drew his sword. Will released Ed's shoulder and Gibbs placed a pistol at Ed's temple before leading him off towards the wharf.  
  
A waltz floated through the air, accompanied by a tinkling sound of silverware against plates and women's laughter. Will Turner gripped the handle of his sword. Beside him, Jack Sparrow had sheathed his sword and sat down on the ground and was scooping up dirt into small piles.  
  
"All in timing, mate," Jack said softly as he raised his eyes to the windows. "All in timing."  
  
Will laughed. "What would you know about timing at a party?"  
  
Jack gave a wry grin and did not answer. Four minutes past, and the apparent host of the party stood up tipsily and raised his glass.  
  
"I, Governor Johnson, of Pe. The Isle of Pernials. pleased at your company. have a drink all 'round!" he said, his speech slurred horribly. His voice echoed around the garden, until the sounds of breaking glass and shrieks replaced it.  
  
Molly Ringwald traced the edge of her champagne glass with her finger. Her dress had weighed her down all night but she had not had the chance to slip into the washroom and remove her corset. If only I could burn the damn thing, she thought, fidgeting imperceptibly in her chair. Her fiancé, Norbert Aston, was missing. Wouldn't it be lovely, Molly thought, a glazed expression in her eye, if I could slip into the servants' quarters and catch him at it with a maid?  
  
Molly had dressed up like the famed Queen of the Nile, Cleopatra. The only differences was that Cleopatra's hair was most likely not read and that in ancient Egypt women didn't mind having their bosoms free, not caged in by a corset. Molly thought wistfully of all the books she had read. Her brother had taught her how to read, but he had died before he began teaching her how to write, but Molly was happy. And oh, the books she had read! Stories about adventure and romance that her 'lady friends' would shudder at if she ever told them what had taken place between the pages.  
  
A voice filtered through her consciousness. Governor Johnson, giving one of his famous speeches, her mind tagged the voice. The glass edge around which she was tracing her finger was making a slight whistling noise. It reminded Molly of the flute her father had forced her to learn to play. Molly stopped tracing the edge immediately.  
  
The lilting noise of her finger against the glass was immediately replaced by the sound of something shattering. Molly looked up, and her gaze viewed the scene around her.  
  
Finally! Molly thought happily. Of course they were pirates, by the way that they were dressed and the way that the candlelight glinted off of their earrings and golden teeth. Fabulous! Now if she could just goad one of the pirates into taking her hostage, to rescue her from the boring schedule of lessons and wedding preparations that had become her life.  
  
About a dozen pirates stood around the room, each standing in front of a different broken window. Only one remained unbroken, and two seconds later Molly watched as a black haired man rolled through the window, uttered an oath, stood up and brushed the glass off of his coat.  
  
"Hello!" he said, the tone of his voice jovial. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. That's my mate Will. say hullo to Will, everybody. He's my second in command, so if one of you kills me he'll take over and we wouldn't want that, would we now? He's scarier than he looks."  
  
Some of the ladies shrieked. A twenty year old man sitting to Molly's right fainted. Molly smiled. Will looked civilized enough to her.  
  
"Right then," Captain Jack continued. "I have a bag." He held a large brown canvas bag up into the air. "I also have a sword."  
  
One of the men at the table stood up. Molly recognized him as General Hendrix, one of the war heroes. Of what war, Molly did not know and did not care.  
  
"There, you!" said Hendrix, pointing a manicured fingernail at Captain Jack's sword. "You dare threaten the ladies present in this room!"  
  
"Obviously, you have never been slapped by a woman, mate. As I was saying-"  
  
"I demand satisfaction!" the general cried out. A man in his mid- thirties, General Hendrix was considered the best swordsman on any of the Caribbean islands.  
  
"And you will be satisfied. Now, this basket here, everyone will place their gold, jewelry-"  
  
"I WILL BE SATISFIED!" the general roared. Jack winced and shrugged his shoulders, as if to cover his ears with them. "That hurt, mate. Do you wish to be satisfied in front of the ladies?"  
  
"I-" the general began, but quicker than a flash the tip of Jack's sword was at his throat.  
  
"Satisfied?"  
  
"I- the code- you cheated!" the general gurgled.  
  
"He's a pirate, mate," said the dark haired man that Captain Jack Sparrow had identified as Will. "What did you really expect?"  
  
"Thanks, Will. Now, gold, jewelry, a bit of those plates and silverware, war medals, (Jack looked pointedly at General Hendrix) everything goes in this bag."  
  
The ladies, most fanning themselves, lined up and dropped valuables in the pirate's bag. The men followed, dropping in rings and medals. Molly was in the middle of the line and stripped off all of her valuables, including the gaudy engagement ring that Norbert had given her. Jack smiled at her and winked when he saw the ring. Molly stepped to the side, over the Will, who was standing at Jack's left like a silent statue. "Please, Mr. Will," she pleaded, "Do you have room on the ship?"  
  
Will looked at her in surprise.  
  
"Please," Molly continued. "I need adventure. I need to get away from my fiancé. My father. Everything. I'll do anything that you ask of me. Really, anything. I'll climb the sails or cook or mop or anything."  
  
Will laughed, but not unpleasantly. "You don't know anything about ships, miss," he said with a hint of a smile. "You'd be quite lost."  
  
"Ah, let 'er come," Jack said from Will's side. "Elizabeth didn't know anythin' about ships either."  
  
A sad smile passed across Will's lips. "Right, mate. What's your name, miss?"  
  
"Molly. Molly Ringwald."  
  
"Right. You can wait over there, Miss Ringwald-"  
  
"Molly, please."  
  
Another sad expression passed across Will's features as a voice from another time spoke to him.  
  
Please, Will, call me Elizabeth..  
  
"Right, Molly. Right over there. Only a few more minutes now."  
  
Natalie held true to her word. The crew hadn't been gone for half an hour when Christian began to hear the sounds of many people approaching, accompanied by the tinkling of plunder against plunder.  
  
It had been an uncomfortable time in the boat. Natalie had made him stay totally silent and still. Her strange brown eyes observed and bored into everything. They seemed lifeless to his eyes, but Christian could sense something waiting, brooding under the surface of Natalie Turner.  
  
In reality, Natalie was doing what any sentry would do- she was observing her surroundings. She noticed that the tide was coming in and that there was the slightest hint of candlelight on the third window on the second floor in the building directly on the harbor to her left. And the thing that Christian sensed- Natalie had drawn a veil across her spirit. She did not yet know who Christian Jones truly was, only that his father was a smuggler, and a ruthless one at that. Natalie Turner did not trust him. But all that Christian saw was a plain looking girl that he suspected to have the spirit and mercilessness of a full-grown pirate.  
  
As the noises grew louder, Christian ventured so far as to speak. "How old are you?"  
  
Natalie turned her eyes to him and observed him for a full three seconds- Christian counted- before saying, "Fifteen."  
  
He started. She had seemed at most two years younger than her given age. Christian himself was nineteen.  
  
Her eyes asked him a question. Christian laughed, slightly nervous, and said, "Oh, I'm nineteen."  
  
"You apprenticed?"  
  
Short and to the point, she was. Christian wondered if she had ever heard of a thing called philosophy. "No. Me dad's not too proud of it either. Heard him cursin' me more 'n once. I met your dad, Will. Where's your mum?"  
  
Again, Natalie's eyes evaluated him. For a moment they seemed to turn almost green.  
  
"Dead. She died in childbirth. She was a gov'ner's daughter. Elizabeth Swann. Wanted a nice life, she did, but she held true to my father. Respected him. Him and his dreams. She didn't have anythin' to go back to, either. Granddad was pretty angry with her, I suppose. And her fiancé. Right mad bloke when he finally got the drift of things. She kept a journal. I read it. Quite nice, she seemed. What about your own mum?"  
  
Christian gathered his thoughts- they had been scattered by the somewhat lengthy reply. So Natalie had more to her than he thought.  
  
"She was an Indian. Came from Jamaica, I think. Me dad was real nice to her. Only person he ever liked, she was. Her name was Kaya. No last name. She died when I was fourteen. Malaria, it was. After that me dad grew really bitter. He hated everythin' except his gold, his treasure. He beat me. Started when she got sick. Hated everythin'. Never touched a hair on her head, though. Loved her too much."  
  
Natalie nodded, sadness in her smile. "At least you knew 'er."  
  
Christian shrugged. "Yeah. Compared to some, I'm a blessed lil' bloke."  
  
Natalie's head suddenly snapped up. Her eyes searched the quay before she spoke in a whisper. "Duck, Christian, duck un'ess you got a knife on you."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Natalie looked at him, and then ducked out of the boat. Her boots made no noise on the beach, but she still looked for shells underfoot.  
  
The noises that they had been hearing were not the noises of the crew of the Black Pearl.  
  
Disclaimer- anyone unfamiliar belongs to me. Gibbs is property of Jerry Bruckenheimer and Gore Verbinski. Molly is mine.  
  
A/N: Sorry that this was another short one. I also apologize for killing off Elizabeth, for those that are Elizabeth fans. I'm doing my best to keep everyone in character- please tell me if something seems off with one of them. 


	4. Chapter Three

~~~~~Chapter Three ~ ~~ ~~~ ~~ ~  
  
SNOW CURTIS NELSON WAS ALONE. He was completely alone, even though he looked the same as all the other jovial souls around him. He could kill the same as anyone, love the same as anyone, and do anything that he wanted too the same way all the other reveling pirates in Tortuga could. But Snow Curtis was alone. Completely and utterly alone.  
  
Skulls and crossbones decorated the sign of one of the seedier pubs on one of the back streets of the small island. He had remembered this place and it was the first place that he had even thought of going to once he had docked from his journey from Port Royale. The moonlight had glistened on the waves as he had pulled his small ship into the wharf. Snow Curtis laughed at the moon. There was nothing to fear now.  
  
The bartender approached him after evaluating the man from afar. He had no earrings, but his nose was pierced in the way of the northern Indians on the mainland. A black bandana was wrapped around his red hair. His hands were calloused, so he was just a plain sailor, not a captain, the bartender surmised.  
  
"What do ye want, lad?" the bartender asked.  
  
Snow Curtis raised his head from his arms where it had been resting. His eyes were startlingly black.  
  
"Vengeance," was his answer.  
  
The bartender laughed. "Don't serve that here, sir."  
  
"Then what do you serve?" Snow Curtis said sarcastically.  
  
"Finest rum in the Caribbean."  
  
"I'll have a glass, then." Snow Curtis shifted his foot so that the handle of the dagger in his boot stopped digging into his ankle.  
  
= = =  
  
"Aye, matey, where ye been, ye dogs?" a gruff voice asked. Natalie could see a dark figure set apart from the multitude of shadows. He seemed to be speaking to about ten people.  
  
Christian slipped out of the boat after Natalie. His boots seemed unnaturally loud next to Natalie's silence.  
  
"Sorry, cap'n. Had a hold up at-"  
  
"I know where ye had a hold up at, and it ain't been at no mansion," the gruff voice growled. "Smithy! Where's old Smithy?"  
  
"Gone, sir," a second voice, a different one from last time, answered. "Said somethin' 'bout ain't doin' this no more. Somethin' about a wife n' kids."  
  
"And Nelson? Where's Nelson?"  
  
"He just disappeared, sir. Took one o' the boats. Prob'ly all the way to that fairy place he was talkin' bout," the second voice continued. "What was it called 'gain? Tiltug? Tortila?"  
  
"Don't know," the gruff captain said. "Don't care. He was a dead weight n'eway and it ain't no use to go lookin' fer 'im. Won't tattle anyways. Too much blood on 'is hands." He chuckled. "The booty! Where's the booty, Harris?"  
  
"No booty, sir. Place was clean out."  
  
"That was a party, mate! No booty?"  
  
"Everyun' was gone, sir."  
  
"Every last one?"  
  
"Yessir."  
  
The gruff captain cursed under his breath, but then his head went back up. Natalie and Christian heard him sniff, like a bloodhound out for a certain scent that he had just caught a whiff off.  
  
"Let's go," the captain said.  
  
Figures began to spill out onto the beach. Natalie hid behind a sailboat and counted twelve of them, heading down the beach towards the bright lights of the next town. Christian gave a sigh of relief, but Natalie didn't move for five minutes. He counted.  
  
Finally, another noise greeted their ears- a more sober shuffling than the noises that the smugglers had brought. It was accompanied by a jingling noise that was strange to Christian's ears.  
  
The crew had returned.  
  
= = =  
  
"I left me lass on the yeller brick road and went to buy an apple tree!" Jack sang drunkenly. Not only had they taken the jewels of the partygoers, they had helped themselves to the liquor as well. Will laughed also, rather loudly, as Jack leaned against him and gestured to Molly.  
  
"Lass," Jack said, "Molly dearest, would you please remove me sword from there 'n give it back?"  
  
Molly had taken the liberty of examining Jack's sword as he staggered down the roads to the wharf. It was a plain sword, but the tip was deadly. Molly held it playfully out of Jack's reach as she looked over the sea of sailors. It was a happy crowd save for the group of captured smugglers in the middle. Will laughed again, and Molly turned towards him. "Mr. Turner," she said, "I find your captain to be quite intoxicated."  
  
"Yessir, Molly," Will said. Molly noticed that even though he was drunk he still had an air of decency about him, where Jack Sparrow was all but spewing vomit onto the streets. "He likes it, I wager. eh, Molly, you engaged?"  
  
"Not anymore," she said, her smile faltering. Will caught it and said, "I was just wonderin' 'cause of that ring you gave us. Ever been on a ship?"  
  
"Twice."  
  
"Aye. Yeh won't be too comfy on board, then. Can yeh climb a ladder?"  
  
"Yes," Molly said, a hint of nervousness gathering in her blue irises. She had a very slight fear of heights.  
  
"Excellent. You can be the crow in the crow's nest!" Jack said, and saluting. Will nodded, and added an "Aye" to Jack's comment. Molly swept a strand of red hair out of her eyes and waved Jack's sword around in the air. "I've always wanted to fly," she said.  
  
"Aye, lass!" Jack said, kicking one leg into the air while leaning on Will, who stumbled. "Lookie there! That's her, mate!"  
  
Molly looked into the fog and discerned a shape blacker than the sky, which she took to be the ship. Scanning the wharf, she noticed three rowboats.  
  
"Two fer the crew and one fer the booty! Set sail, mates!" Jack said in a singsong voice. Will unattached himself from Jack and set off towards the rowboat that held his daughter and the boy. "Aye, Natalie!" he said.  
  
Christian was surprised to see Natalie smile- a real smile. "Aye, dad. I got the booty boat?"  
  
"Yes, miss," Will said, patting her on the shoulder and ruffling her hair. Natalie winced slightly as he stumbled knee deep into the water. "I trust ye to row the riches to safety?" Will saluted her playfully. Natalie nodded and grinned again. Christian was shocked. She had smiled, not once, but twice! Her father must be lucky.  
  
Jack directed his men to load the plunder into Natalie's boat- "Step lively men, and careful with the gold!"  
  
Natalie and Christian watched as each man came forwards and deposited a sack into their boat. The thing bounced up and down as every bag was carefully placed into the boat. Christian held on to the wooden side for support in case one of the bags decided to throw him clear out of the little vessel, but Natalie sat still, her hands in her lap in a startling image of a lady dressed as a pirate.  
  
As Will came forwards and deposited his sack of treasure in the boat, Natalie quickly grabbed his sleeve. "Father," she said quietly, "who's the red-headed one?"  
  
Will grinned drunkenly. "Jack picked 'er up!" he said. "Jolly nice lass, Molly is."  
  
The fog rolled out in sheets behind them as they began to row back to the Black Pearl. Natalie rowed with all of her might and the boat skipped across the water. Christian had offered to help her row, but he had been silenced with a look from those dark eyes. Minutes past as the sinister looking lights of the Black Pearl drew ever closer to them.  
  
Annamaria threw down a rope ladder from the boat. Jack had coaxed her into standing guard on the boat and helping them back up. After some yelling and some nasty sounding yelps, Annamaria had agreed. Christian and Molly, in separate boats, eyed the ladder with some trepidation. Will scurried up the ladder as if it were on fire, and Jack took ample time climbing, pausing to belch and curse. When it was Natalie's turn to go up, she looked around her and smiled.  
  
She was sure that one day Christian would be able to call this place home.  
  
A/N: Thanks to the following people for reviewing: aLL aMeRIcAn gIRl 50, Beau Porteur De Diamant, ElvenRanger13, kitten, Asarielle and Erin. Special thanks to deemarie. No, I didn't mean to name Molly Ringwald after the actress! I just kind of did it subconsciously. Thanks to deemarie for pointing that out!  
  
I will try to update this at least once every week. The key word in there is 'try.'  
  
I'm also sorry if my little section separators don't work. You know, some people do *** or ~***~ or something like that. I do === but sorry if it doesn't show up or if its hard to see.  
  
I PROMISE, one day I will make these chapters longer! 


	5. Chapter Four

~~~~~ Chapter Four ~ ~~  
  
~~~ ~~ ~  
  
The ship was barely touched by the light breeze as Christian was shown a small room that was just off the regular sailor's quarters. The mist had grown even worse outside, and he had not seen Natalie since she had climbed to the top of the rope and boarded the Black Pearl. Unbeknownst to him, she was doing, at that moment, something that he had never even imagined doing in his entire life.  
  
The rope was thick and moist with the moisture droplets in the fog, and Natalie squeezed it tighter as she shimmied up it. The breeze was perfect, and the mist felt cool against the thin sheen of perspiration that had broken out along her hairline. The sails had to be lowered. Natalie wondered what Christian would think if he could see her now. He would probably try to climb up the rope and save me, she thought with a small smile playing across her lips. Distracted from the rope, she was caught off guard by a sudden gust of breeze and slipped a few inches down the rope. Natalie resigned her mind to the task before her and continued to climb.  
  
Christian gazed around the room. There were two bunks and two small tables. The remnants of a poker game- chips, cards, and a few coins- were strewn across the larger one, while on the other table was one of the strangest things Christian Jones would ever see in his entire life.  
  
It was colder on top of the middle mast, and Natalie balanced herself against the wind as she crawled forwards along the bar. She untied the first rope that held the sail up, and began to move on to the next. Her gaze never fell on the upper, smaller sail that was above even this one. Jack didn't need it unfurled tonight.  
  
Down on board, Captain Jack Sparrow gave the order to raise the anchor. He peered upwards and saw three dim figures untying the three different sails. He then spat on his finger and held it up into the breeze. "No rowing tonight, lads!" he said cheerfully, and then went off to converse with Will about their destination.  
  
It seemed like a sort of shrine, a shrine to a woman, it seemed. There was a piece of embroidery, along with a small dagger that had a simple but beautiful hilt. It was smoothly shaped, like the wind had shaped it. On the hilt was a single letter- E.  
  
The second rope holding up the sail was five feet away from the first. Natalie inched towards it, her feet gripping the pole and her arms slightly outstretched for balance. The cal louses on her fingers were hard and rough. She had been climbing these robes ever since she had learned to climb steps. It was second nature to Natalie, but her father. her father wanted more of her mother in her, but he was proud, very proud, and he loved her more than anything else. Natalie smiled grimly.  
  
There was also a hairpin and a piece of lace next to a fan, with the initials E and S carved into the handle. Christian ran his fingers over each one, and then noticed three chests placed carefully on shelves above the table with all of the woman's belongings. After checking to make sure that all of the pirates were on deck drinking gin and rum, Christian reached for the first chest.  
  
The knot was tight, and Natalie's fingers were cramping. It had only been two days since they had raised the sail, how could the knot be so tight? She reached into her boot and struck off the bottom part of the knot with her dagger. She didn't have time to spend ten minutes on knots- Natalie could sense that the wind had changed direction and that it had also changed velocity. It was picking up, and it was a sailor's sin to waste good wind such as this. Letting the rope fall, she cut off a strip of material from her breeches and retied the sail with the material.  
  
The lock on the chest was used frequently, and Christian opened it without a problem. Inside were boys' shirts and pants. Christian grinned wryly- this was Natalie's closet. Socks were rolled up carefully beside undergarments. He closed and replaced the chest back on the shelf, and directed his steps to the second chest and to the second shelf.  
  
Natalie let her fingers slip over the mast as she past it. The wind was picking up more and more by the minute, and the two other men were already working on untying the fourth knots. She leaned forwards and untied the third knot with no problem at all.  
  
Captain Jack Sparrow gazed up into the night. He considered calling up to Natalie to make sure she was all right up there, but he decided against it. It would only hurt her pride. Will obviously had a different opinion. Jack heard quick footsteps behind him and threw out an arm. It hit Will squarely in the chest. "She's a pirate, lad, not a lady," Jack said in a laughing tone. "She's fine up there. I'm goin' to the wheel. Toodles."  
  
The second chest contained nightdresses, a single dress, corset, slip and a shift. Christian smiled at the contents of the chest. Natalie, wearing a dress? It was almost laughable. She probably slept in her pants.  
  
The fourth knot was stiff. Natalie sighed in frustration and looked down at her already demolished pant leg. She wedged her handy dagger in between the rope's circlets and pried it free. The sail unfurled under her, whiter than a spirit out of the grave. Natalie wondered what it would look like to someone far out at see with only the lights of the Black Pearl to light the distance. The sails probably looked like ghosts.  
  
The third chest was by far the largest, and the catch to open it was almost jammed. Christian frowned as he peered at it, trying to figure out if something was keeping the chest closed or if age had simply sealed it shut. He reached for his three-inch blade and wedged it between the two pieces of metal. It opened in a cinch.  
  
Natalie looked down at the rippling sail one more time as sailors below secured it. She turned back and headed back down to the rope and slid back to the deck. Three quarters of the way down, she glanced up at the white, full moon. She remembered the story, the fabled legend of the Black Pearl and its moonlit skeleton crew. The rope was still moist from the mist. Natalie slipped and plunged down to meet the wooden deck.  
  
Inside the chest was something Christian couldn't see Natalie having in her possession. Dresses folded neatly and lovingly upon dresses, corsets, shifts, everything a true colonial lady would need. The dresses were slightly too large for Natalie. Christian wiped his hand over the top one, a pink one with embroidered flowers, and his hand came away covered with dust. He glanced back at the dagger and fan. ES.  
  
Dead. She died in childbirth. She was a gov'ner's daughter. Elizabeth Swann. Wanted a nice life, she did, but she held true to my father. Respected him. Him and his dreams. She didn't have anythin' to go back to, either. Granddad was pretty angry with her, I suppose. And her fiancé. Right mad bloke when he finally got the drift of things. She kept a journal. I read it. Quite nice, she seemed. What about your own mum?  
  
Elizabeth Swann. That was Elizabeth Swann's dagger, Elizabeth Swann's fan, and these were Elizabeth Swann's dresses. Suddenly overcome with disgust at how he had invaded the Turner's privacy, Christian slid the trunk back onto the shelf just as the door to the small room bust open. He whirled around. It was Will Turner, and he had a body folded into his arms.  
  
He had been too late. Gibbs had shouted something, Jack had looked up in alarm, Anamaria had pointed, and he had turned just to see his daughter's back slam into solid wood and lay still.  
  
It was almost like losing Elizabeth all over again, except Natalie was still breathing, still bleeding from the gash to the back of her head. Will had scooped her up off the ground and had cradled her, his only daughter, the only thing that was keeping him alive, to his chest. Her eyes were closed, and his shirtsleeve was dripping with redness. Will ran down the stairs and burst into Natalie's room. The fact that Christian was there did not register with him as he placed her carefully, face up, on the bottom bunk on his right side. He slipped his arm under her neck and lifted her head up off of the pillow. In the two seconds her head had laid upon the white linens, the place was already stained through with blood.  
  
Will bowed his head and began to pray.  
  
= = =  
  
His grimy fingers encircled the metal post of the cell, the dirt under his stained fingernails prominent. In the years since he had last seen the brig on the Black Pearl, more cells had been added, the result being that all the units were even smaller than they had been before. Packed in with twenty of his finest smuggler allies, Ed Jones was not a happy man. He had spat and cursed, but they had taken even his small blade away. Now he sat alone in the corner with his head drooped down onto his knees and thought about Kaya Maria.  
  
She had been the only good thing that had ever happened to him. Her skin was bronze and her hair was black and her eyes were smooth and deep and dark. Pity that the bawling baby boy that squirmed out of her gut looked more like him than her. Only his eyes, the deep mournful eyes, and the pitch-black hair belonged to Kaya Maria. The rest was, unfortunately, Ed's.  
  
When she had contracted malaria, Ed died. His band of smugglers never believed that Ed could be truly beaten, but when Kaya died after a few days of pure agony something in Ed flickered and went out. The boy was only fourteen years old. Ed had taken out his misery on him and had taken pride in every bruise and cut that he had inflicted on the boy. Still did. Ed's number one rule was to have no regrets.  
  
His body had taken the toll also. Where he had once been a handsome young man he was now a rounded middle-aged one, with graying hair at the temples, a ruddy complexion and a body that could probably never obtain its former glory. He had looked at a few women after Kaya's death, but none appealed to him. Ed had been beaten. Snuffed. Licked.  
  
But there was one part in his brain still raging with life. Already he had begun to form plans to break out of this eternal pit of darkness. And when it was over, Ed would have his own ship, his own crew, his own legend and his own personal pile of gold. The legend of the Isle de la Muerta was a popular one, and this crew knew the way to the place, which was supposedly still streaming with gold, jewels and plunder.  
  
And if the scant rumors of the feared name in the underground were true, then the man that would help him, even if unknowingly, was already on his way for his own personal vengeance.  
  
= = =  
  
Snow Curtis Nelson gripped the handle of his beer and downed it like there was no tomorrow, and like there had been no yesterday either. The brunette barmaid cleaned out another glass and set it down on the table in front of him. Snow Curtis looked into the murky alcoholic depths, his eyes still unfazed from the vast amount of liquor he had already consumed. The barmaid was surprised. All other sailors who had drunken that much always ended up sprawled over the bar within five minutes. This man had been sitting here for half an hour.  
  
He took a sip, let it burn down his throat. For the first and only time Snow Curtis wished that he could have his old pirate crew back- the one he had just ditched, in fact. Minus the drunken old fool of a captain. Captains were no longer of any use to Snow Curtis.  
  
He slipped off the barstool, slipped the barmaid a shilling and retreated to a dark and smoky corner of the place. He took out his watch. It read 9:29.  
  
The only good thing about the band of smugglers at this particular bar was that the already drunk pack of regulars were surprisingly punctual. Every night at 9:32 they would trounce in, demand a few beers, tell the barmaid a few lewd and nasty jokes, and then retire to one of the many large tables to play poker or gin rummy or blackjack.  
  
Snow Curtis knew this because he had watched this particular pack of men for three days. They were perfect, perfect for his revenge, and tonight he would make the first move.  
  
They killed Anna, he thought, his hands gathering into fists. They killed my wife.  
  
Snow Curtis had listened to these men for three nights, and whatever vile things they talked about went over Snow Curtis's head. He only knew that the conversation always switched to one topic- treasure. The group of men had a bad habit of killing whichever captain failed to make them a few pence richer and a few moments more infamous. They were also very superstitious.  
  
At exactly 9:32 the door to the nearly empty bar burst open and twenty-four grimy bodies spilled into the place. Some ordered gin, others rum, some tonic. One of them produced a pack of cards and they set about playing poker, betting small things like broken compasses and handkerchiefs. Snow Curtis laid his dark eyes on each one of them. Most of them were in their mid thirties, some early forties, and there were two teenagers. Forty-five minutes after the first hand of poker had been won, Snow Curtis stood up and climbed up onto the middle of the table.  
  
"Hullo, laddies."  
  
One of the younger pirates stood. "Git off the table, you drunk," he snarled. "Can't you see that we're playin' cards?"  
  
Snow Curtis ignored him and kept standing on the pile of discarded cards in the middle of the table. "How'd you fine gentlemen like to find some treasure?"  
  
The mutterings passing around the table ceased.  
  
Snow Curtis nodded and smiled. "Aye. I know where treasure is, mates! A vast magnitude of treasure. Two percent to each of ye that helps me get to the island, and even two percent is a huge amount in this case."  
  
The men nodded dumbly. Vast amounts of treasure! It had been years since they had a large strike like this man was promising.  
  
Snow Curtis grinned. The poor fools. "Are ye willin' to fight fer it? We're gonna take it, and then we're gonna sink the ship that rightfully owns it!"  
  
Hands slapped down on the table. Clearly everyone wanted to sign on. Snow Curtis grinned. "Great. We set sail for the Isle de la Muerta in two days."  
  
There was a stunned silence. Everyone knew the story of the Island of Death. Finally, one man stuttered out a question.  
  
"Ain't that place haunted, cap'n? Off limits, like?"  
  
"Not anymore. Now, let's all introduce ourselves. I'm Captain Snow Curtis. And you?"  
  
"Coldplate, at your service."  
  
"Knifehilt."  
  
"Bearclaw"  
  
"Sharktooth."  
  
Each man reeled off his name. Hoot, Iron Fist, Coldheart, Steelbreath, Blade, Hornet, Icechip, Incisor, Hook, Lineman, Donkeylung, Scale, Mulemouth, Hopper, Animal, Sinker, Bunker, Dagger, Bait and Johhnieboy. Snow Curtis smiled. "Excellent. Meet here again tomorrow. Same time as always. 'Night, lads."  
  
A/N: I'm going to try to update every week now, instead of every five days, okay? I'm also trying to thank everyone that reviewed. Sorry if I accidentally skip your name. 


	6. Chapter Five

A/N: Sorry, guys, but this chapter is a bit gory too. I'm apologizing now before I get flamed by one of you. ( Besides, I laugh at flames. The first time I got flamed, I laughed. Really, I did. I like being flamed. It lets me know that I am not the only idiot in this world. Thanks for All American Girl 50 for reviewing (sorry I couldn't put in all the capitalized letters and stuff, I'm too lazy right now lol)  
  
~~~~~ Chapter Five ~ ~~  
  
~~~ ~~ ~  
MOLLY GAZED AROUND THE SHIP, HER PULSE QUICKENING WITH EVERY GLANCE OF PIRACY AND EVERY SIGHT OF THE LIFE THAT SHE HAD ALWAYS WANTED TO HAVE. She was on a ship, and a pirate ship at that, and she had no designated chaperone, something that was completely unheard of on the Island of Perennials. Jack had sent the pirate woman called Anamaria to show her to a spare room for guests- what kind of guests did they have on a pirate ship, Molly wondered- they kept by the captain's cabin. It was a nice room, not anything like Molly was used to, of course, but nice nonetheless. It had a single candle on the one bedside table next to the narrow bed that was nailed to the wall. But the linens were bright and clean and there was a porthole on one side and a space roped off for a closet of sorts, but Molly had not brought any clothes. Anamaria had promised to lend her some breeches and other things that would make her life on board the Black Pearl more comfortable.  
  
Molly still didn't know exactly why Jack had let her come on board the Black Pearl, but her mother had taught her to remain silent unless spoken too, and Molly decided to do the exact opposite in this case. She supposed it was because she had asked if she could abandon her former life and come aboard. The thought that Jack might be lonely entered her mind once or twice, but she dismissed the thought. He had a whole crew to keep him company, and Anamaria.  
  
Molly stripped out of her once elaborate costume and slipped into one of Anamaria's pairs of breeches as she pondered what a crow's nest was. Then a knock sounded on the door, and two seconds later Anamaria poked her head in without waiting for Molly to reply. She knew at that moment that the only thing she would miss upon the Isle of Perennials was the privacy granted to a lady of class.  
  
"Will's gonna show you round the ship," Anamaria said promptly. She removed her head from the door and yelled down the corridor, "Will! Will, you scrawny lad, she's ready!"  
  
But Will did not magically appear at Anamaria's side. The woman frowned, yelled out once more, and then towed Molly along beside her and went up on the deck to find several sailors gathered around Jack Sparrow at the wheel. Anamaria growled. Will had told her that he would show Molly the ropes. No need to carry dead weight on board, even though the reason Jack had brought the girl on board wasn't clear. Crow in the crow's nest, Anamaria scoffed. You'd be daft to fully believe that, even from a drunken Jack. She marched forwards and pushed past a worried looking Gibbs.  
  
"Where's Will, Jack? He was supposed to show Molly around," Anamaria demanded. Jack looked at her, and for once the light in his eyes wasn't as bright as it usually was. "He's down in the bunks, takin' care of his daughter," he replied.  
  
Instantly Anamaria's attitude turned from angry to concerned. Will's daughter was like a child to everyone on board the ship, and anything that happened to her, anything that needed to be taken care of, was everyone's business. "What happened to Natalie?"  
  
"Fell from a rope," Jack said dully.  
  
"Fell?" Anamaria said in disbelief. Pirates did not fall, especially from ropes. Shimmying up ropes was second nature to all of them.  
  
"You 'eard me, and don't go goin' after Will at a time like this. You know the boat well as him. You can show Molly 'round."  
  
Anamaria turned around to see Molly quietly waiting. "Will's daughter? The girl?" Anamaria nodded and slowly pointed to a pole that graced the front of the deck. "That's the crows nest," she said slowly, and moved her finger to an upright pole. "Foremast, mid-mast, and aft-mast. To the right is starboard, to the left is port. The front of the ship is the bow, the back is the stern." Anamaria led Molly mechanically through the ship, to the bridge, the kitchens (the galley), and to the built in prison (the brig) where some of the captives leered at them. Anamaria slapped their groping hands and went off to show Molly the other key places in the ship, but her mind was with Will and his critically injured daughter.  
  
Ed still sat quietly in the corner. His eyes were glazed over and he did not pay attention to the African pirate woman or her redheaded companion.  
  
= = =  
  
Hands reached out to grab her, countless hands, with pointed nails that cut into her flesh and bony knuckles that knocked against her wrists. Some dragged her forwards, others back, and some tried to pull her down while others pushed her up with grunts of exertion. Her mother was there, her oval face smooth, her lips full and her eyes deep. Her hair rippled in the wind, but something wasn't right. The sun was setting and the sky was painted red. Her father held gold, riches beyond his wildest dreams, but her mother's tears drew him away. There was a plump man with a ridiculous wig full of white powdered curls. His eyes were sad and every night he gazed out to see looking for something he had lost. Another man stood beside him, a younger man who was not the older one's son but just a step away from being it. His eyes betrayed the losses that he had gone through in his life. Then there was metal. The metal was hot, so hot and still burning bright red, but it was cooling and out of the coolness came something as sharp as death. A sword, a special sword, not even a sword, a dagger! A lovely, deadly dagger with initials carved into it. On one side was destiny, on the other; fate, and a face emerged in between the rest, a black haired face. She didn't recognize him but she knew him. There was gold after the face swam in front of her eyes for a few murky seconds, deadly gold, and with it came a red headed man with a goatee with black eyes, blacker than the depths of the deepest seas. Then there was another man, with death in his eyes, and his own red hair was getting grayer by the day but he would not leave the living alone. He was nothing but a ghost, a spirit, but there was something more tangible to his memory than just a shade of the past. This older man was something more, and death was in his broken teeth and his crooked stare. Names surfaced on the top of her memory, but she recognized none of them. There was a room, a small room, and a sweet young face with mournful eyes looked down upon the infant in his arms before the babe's eyes closed again. The faces of heroes passed across her eyelids, her father, her uncle, her friends. Her hands kneaded the cloth beneath them into knots. Her entire being was on fire. Her eyes flew open, wider than they had ever been before. Her body was drenched in sweat, cold sweat that seared her flesh like a white hot metal poker. Above her there was nothing but her dreams, pressing in on her nostrils and clogging them and drowning her with their sustenance. She could hear herself screaming, kneading cloth with her feet and with her bare hands, and her back arched with the horrible sound that came not from her lungs or her throat but from her mind, the voices of the thousands that were within her whose faces that she had seen. And when she relaxed and the sound stopped, redness descended upon her eyelids and pushed her back even further into the eternal pit of the human mind.  
  
= = =  
  
She was delirious, more delirious than Frankie had ever seen any of his patients. The ship doctor tried repeatedly to bandage the girl's head, but her body was writing so hard that bandaging was impossible. Frankie told the boy to send for him when she quieted. He left Will with his head resting down on the sheets beside his daughter's abdomen. His cold hand held her flaming one.  
  
Out in the corridor, Frankie sighed. He was the one that had brought Natalie into the world. He had watched Elizabeth die and he had watched the silent spasms of pain ripple down Will's spine, the infant daughter still clutched in his arms as he looked down upon his wife, the woman he had risked so much for. Frankie hoped that the one thing Will had left would not pass tonight.  
  
Christian stood in the corner, still. He watched her through the slats of the bed, her small fingers kneading the sheets beneath her. Sometimes she would cry out words and names that were unintelligible to Christian, but when Natalie cried out he saw silent tears sliding down Will's face. It was when her eyes shot open and she screamed her soul out to the heavens above that his back became rigid with cold pain. Will did not lift his head, but his tears fell quicker after the unearthly sound had passed, mingling the drops with the pools of his daughter's own blood.  
  
Natalie relaxed and fell silent. Her arched back lowered itself back down to the sheets and her eyes closed. Christian fetched the doctor. The bandaging was completed within five minutes after Frankie had evaluated the would. There were several deep gashes, but none so bad to really need to be sewed up. The amount of blood that had been spilled from the numerous smaller wounds on her head by themselves was astonishing. If Natalie made it through the night alive, it would be something of a miracle.  
  
Will held his daughter's hand. Her hair was matted with blood and his hands were covered with it, but still he remained still. The memory of Elizabeth came back to him, and for the first time in fifteen years, faced with the loss of another treasured soul, he allowed himself to miss her. Will Turner, the man with the heart of ice, allowed himself to cry.  
  
Christian left the room and closed the door to leave Will alone in his grief.  
  
He went to the bridge to see Jack. The captain smiled at him mournfully. "How's she pullin' through?" Christian told Jack in length about the injuries to the back of her head. Jack bowed his head, and it was a full two minutes before he raised his head again. He handed his mysterious compass to Gibbs and told the man to take the wheel. Letting Christian walk before him and wait behind him, Jack entered the room and placed a hand on Will's shaking shoulder. The man was racked with sobs, pouring out fifteen years of grief into the sheets of what might turn out to be his own daughter's deathbed.  
  
If Will had looked up, he would have seen that Jack was crying too. 


	7. Chapter Six

A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers! I've also changed the title of this. It's now "To Die Alone" instead of "Natalie." The latter title wasn't descriptive at all. I'm trying to email everyone to inform them of the change.  
  
dedicated popoff: lol. Yeah, I didn't elaborate on Elizabeth's death. I don't think it would have added much to the story.  
  
deemarie: thanks for sticking with this fic! Reading your reviews is a pleasure. I'm glad you like Molly so much. I think she's one of my more interesting original characters. Have I really evaded the Mary Sue curse? You have no idea how happy that makes me!  
  
aLL aMeRIcAn gIRl 50: Yeah. Jack seems like a very compassionate person to me. I'd also like to thank you for regularly reviewing this. Reviews make me happy. Sorry for killing Elizabeth (  
  
Wren Maxwell: lol, I don't care if your reviews are short. Thanks!  
  
kitten: Thanks for the compliment.  
  
Caira1: Yeah, that is the way it is. Thanks for telling me how well I supposedly kept Jack in character! One of the things I hate is when people are out of character, so EVERYONE, tell me if something's off with Will or Jack or whoever.  
  
Beau Porteur de Diamant: Yeah, its nasty but that's the way it is. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
ElvenRanger13: reading your review made me so happy! I'm glad you like it so much. It is rather bittersweet, isn't it?  
  
Asarielle: Thanks! Pirates of the Caribbean fics are addictive.  
  
Erin: Thanks! I also think that Will would make a good dad. He's so sweet!  
  
~~~~~Chapter Five ~  
  
~~  
  
~~~  
  
~~  
  
~  
  
THERE WAS LIGHT, A DIM LIGHT THAT FILTERED THROUGH THE CLOSE DARKNESS. It got brighter and brighter until it hurt her eyes and she squeezed them shut. When she opened them again, her vision swam in front of her eyes, but she could see that all of the bright light was coming from a little circle on the wall. She closed her eyes again. The cloth under her was wet and crusty.  
  
When she willed herself to open her eyes again, she looked down. A mound of hair was lying beside her stomach on the mattress. She started ever so slightly, but enough so that the hair lifted and revealed the face underneath. It was streaked with shiny rivulets that shimmered in the light from the circle.  
  
A porthole. The word filtered to the top of her memory. She looked at the face from between narrowed eyelids and lifted her head. Pain shot through her cranium.  
  
"Dad," she murmured.  
  
The face smiled slightly, so slightly that it was barely perceptible. "Natalie," Will said. His hand still gripped his daughter's.  
  
She lowered her head back onto the pillow and gazed beneath her prone form.  
  
"Blood. Blood!" Natalie suddenly yelled. She tried to sit upright, but pain shot through her back and she yelped in pain.  
  
"Shh," Will whispered, as if loud noises would hurt her ears. "Its okay now. Its all goin' ta be okay."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Will smiled through his tears. "A miracle, Nat. That's what happened."  
  
= = =  
  
More than twenty years before, Jack Sparrow had been the captain of the Black Pearl. His crew had mutinied and had marooned him on an island, where smugglers saved him and gave him a boat. He had taken that boat to Port Royal, where it had sank. That is the chain of events that led to Jack meeting Will. But the story of Jack Sparrow is something more than that.  
  
Snow Curtis gripped the mug of his beer as he allowed himself to remember. He allowed the flow of thoughts and memories to flow over his skin and into his heart like water. First they started out slow, and then came faster and faster until only the mug of beer could anchor him to the ground.  
  
Snow Curtis had been married for three months. His wife, Beth, was with child. They were living in Port Royal under Governor Swann. The Black Pearl would attack the town only twice in its existence. The second time was under Captain Barbossa. The first was under Captain Sparrow.  
  
Port Royal is a very rich town. It has its share of blacksmiths and apprentices and bakers, but the population is mostly made up of noblemen and lords. It's a beautiful place to see, and a wonderful place to rob. Snow Curtis was one of those peasants that pirates loved to torture with their dreams of gold. Jack Sparrow had attacked Port Royal, and his pirates had killed his wife.  
  
Jack Sparrow had been cursed, cursed with the Aztec gold that he had taken. The medallions had all been collected, and the curse had been removed from the once immortal thieves. Jack Sparrow was now mortal. He could be killed.  
  
Beth Nelson was gone, and so was Snow Curtis's unborn child. But his thirst for vengeance was as strong as ever.  
  
Johnnieboy came up to him. He was one of the younger pirates, with mousy brown hair and only the first traces of stubble showing upon his chin. "Boss," he said, "the Guv'nor and the commodore are overlookin' the boats now. The crew's ready."  
  
Snow Curtis nodded. "Give me a minute," he replied, and downed the rest of his beer in one swallow before following Johnnieboy out to the harbor where the British Royal Navy was so proudly anchored. His eyes waved over the ships and searched their every visible nook and cranny. Finally his eyes settled on one of the flagships, the Mentor, the pride and joy of the Caribbean navy vessels. He pointed. Johhnieboy nodded silently and went off to tell the crew. They were ready within ten minutes.  
  
= = =  
  
Commodore Norrington hated the sea. It had taken all that was ever dear to him. All except his rank in the British Royal Navy, and even that meant nothing to him now. But he stayed with the ships, steering them to safety and defending them against the numerous dangers that the sea brought.  
  
Governor Swann had wished to overlook the boats for the annual inspection. It pained the Commodore to even hear the man's name. But in the bewigged man Commodore shared the pain of losing Elizabeth, though the Commodore had lost her earlier than Governor Swann. Every morning he woke and looked over Port Royal and cursed the Governor's mansion and the blacksmiths' shop and the harbor, because all of those places had played a part in Elizabeth's own demise. The thought that Elizabeth might have died earlier than she had of other reasons other than childbirth had she been married to him never crossed his turbulent mind.  
  
It was a crisp evening. Governor Swann had made the inspection appointment for three o'clock in the afternoon and had made the Commodore waste three hours waiting for him. The Governor arrived, flustered, and apologized, saying that "affairs of state" had delayed him. Commodore Norrington hushed the torrent his tongue had almost unleashed upon the man and led him down the rows of ships.  
  
"The Atlantic, sir, had to be repaired in Jamaica because she sprung a leak, just got back yesterday. the Mentor, pride of the fleet, never had a scratch in five years. the Magnolia. the Africa. the Rosalind."  
  
Suddenly a shout echoed out from across the quay. Commodore Norrington and his companion spun around on their heels and witnessed the most incredible thing they had seen since they had battled Barbossa's Black Pearl.  
  
About thirty dirty, grimy men were swarming along the dock. The cleanest one, a redhead, seemed to be in command. He was followed by a mousy youth with scraggly brown hair. Within ten seconds the pirates had overtaken the guards surrounding the Mentor and were climbing rope ladders up onto the deck. They pulled up the anchor and set off out of the harbor of Port Royal.  
  
Snow Curtis Nelson had commandeered a ship from right under the Commodore's nose. He hadn't even had the time to recover from shock and draw his sword.  
  
= = =  
  
As Snow Curtis was commandeering the Mentor, Natalie was making it through her first conscious evening since the accident. Will had constantly been by her side, holding her hand, smoothing her bedclothes and stroking her hair. More than once that day Natalie had awoken from a deep sleep to find the shiny trails of tears coating her father's cheeks. Often Jack came down for short visits. Christian was up on deck for the entire day.  
  
It was three days later when he first appeared. Natalie was tossing around in bed. Christian stood there for a few moments, and then left. When he looked at Natalie, he felt like he was invading someone.  
  
The next day Christian was basically forced to visit the invalid girl. Jack had sent him down to fetch Will- the sky looked troubled and stormy and the waves were getting choppy. Christian went below decks to find Will and Natalie conversing, Natalie lying down and Will sitting on the opposite bunk. They were both laughing, and both of them looked with the same penetrating stare at Christian when he entered.  
  
"Hullo, Christian," said Will. "What brings you down here?"  
  
"Captain Sparrow needs you, sir," Christian replied. Will nodded, said that he would come back down to visit his daughter later, and left the room. Christian himself had already turned towards the stairs when Natalie spoke.  
  
"Why are you afraid?"  
  
Christian stopped short in the doorway, his back facing Natalie. "Afraid of what?" he said stiffly.  
  
"Of the ship. Of my father, of my uncle. Of me."  
  
"I'm not afraid of your father or your uncle."  
  
"What about me?" Natalie looked at his back with a quizzical frown. He still would not turn around.  
  
"You're strange to me. I've never met anyone like you before, so yeah, you frighten me a little."  
  
"And the Pearl?" Christian's back shifted slightly at the question, seemingly getting even stiffer than it had been before. "There're many stories 'bout the Pearl. No one in their right mind wouldn't be afraid of this ship."  
  
"I'm not afraid." Christian turned around and saw Natalie propped up on one elbow, looking at him. "You're different. And you've lived on this ship since you were a wee kid."  
  
"I'm not different." Christian shifted under her intense gaze and shrugged. "Maybe you just don't notice it."  
  
"Maybe you just don't look inside yourself close enough." She shifted away from him and lay down. Christian stood in his spot for a moment before leaving.  
  
She really is off her rocker, he thought as he left the room. But he could still feel the younger woman's stare on his back. 


	8. Chapter Seven

A/N: There's a scene rather like one from The Mummy in this chapter, but I wasn't thinking about the movie when I planned it, so don't sue me! Please!  
  
Thanks to all my reviewers! I love you all and I hope to write ya'll a message!  
  
~~~~~Chapter Seven ~  
  
~~  
  
~~~  
  
~~  
  
~  
  
CAPTAIN JACK SPARROW HAD SET HIS COURSE, AND NO ONE COULD ARGUE WITH IT. They were going back to the Isle de la Muerta to take more riches off the island to sell for money. The value of gold did not seem so wonderful anymore in the New World, and cash money was the way to go. Captain Jack Sparrow decided to go with the flow, and had been selling some of the gold along the road. They were bound for Tortuga.  
  
Will put away the telescope. It had been five days since Natalie had recovered from her fall, and she was steadily recovering. In about a week she would be back to normal, but Will didn't want her climbing up ropes any time soon. Jack, surprisingly, agreed with him.  
  
The pirate island was drawing ever closer, and Will felt both drawn and repelled from the place. It was a pirate island and he was a pirate, but he just couldn't understand Tortuga. It was a fun place, like a vacation spot, but he couldn't understand how people stood living there. Will shrugged off his thoughts and replaced the telescope on an ornate wooden table in the bridge's cabin.  
  
Jack seemed have the exact opposite of Will's feelings. He was jumping up and down, craning his neck for a glimpse of his beloved shore. It had been more than a month since he had tasted the good beer of Tortuga, and his throat was craving for the taste.  
  
Molly, up in the crows nest, grinned. It was her first time seeing the infamous pirate island. Her smile reflected Jack's merry dance down on the deck below her.  
  
As night drew closer and darker the lights on the shore came on, seemingly beckoning to the tired crew of the Black Pearl. Gibbs was working recklessly fast as he drew up the sails and let the anchor gently sift its way into the ocean floor. The boats were lowered.  
  
Natalie gazed out of her porthole as she pulled on one of her nicer pairs of breeches. She had not been on the shore of Tortuga for a long while and she found herself missing the place.  
  
Christian stood by the closed door, fidgeting, his hands placed nervously in his pockets. Will wanted him to help Natalie along the streets because she was still weak. If he had heard stories about the Black Pearl, they always seemed to be followed by stories of the pirate island of Tortuga. Men wailing drunkenly in the streets, brawls breaking out in the bars.  
  
Natalie opened the door. "Hullo, Christian," she said.  
  
"Natalie." Christian nodded in greeting.  
  
"Its okay. Tortuga seems bad, but it's a good place," Natalie replied to his greeting. Christian was slightly unnerved by her apparent mind reading skills, but he was growing used to Natalie, as he spent most of his time in her room fetching various people.  
  
"Is the rum good?" he asked. Natalie turned to face her companion and grinned at the first glimmers of a twinkle that were showing in his eyes. "If you can sneak it past me dad's nose," she said in a laughing tone. Christian chuckled in reply and they walked up the stairs and onto the deck. Gibbs was directing the excited sailors onto boats, while Jack was shouting something about how this was only a short stop and no one should get carried away. No one was listening to him, because everyone knew that Jack would just go and get drunk himself.  
  
The boats swished slightly in the water as people boarded. Will sat in the back of the second boat and prepared to row. He glanced over his shoulder to see if Natalie was all right. Finding her so, and Christian watching her every move, Will slowly turned away. He had wanted to keep both eyes on Natalie, but Jack had convinced him to have a night off. Besides, Christian had volunteered to watch over his younger companion.  
  
The boy was doing very well on board the Pearl, Will noted. Everyone seemed to like him well enough. Anamaria had taken him under her wing from the beginning and had found out that Christian was adept at things like tying knots, cooking and 'swabbing the decks.' Unfortunately, it was Gibbs who found out that, though the boy could row and keep a somewhat steady course, the small rowboat wavered all over the place. A hearty seaman, Gibbs was embarrassed at the quivering tendrils of nausea that were beginning to creep up his intestines into his stomach. Christian, who was concentrating fully on rowing the small boat, did not notice the older man's discomfort.  
  
In the fourth and final boat, Christian offered his hand to Natalie, who took it and lightly hopped down to the deck and sat down on the nearest bench. Anamaria began to row, and within half an hour the pirates were hopping off the boats and into the knee-deep surf of the harbor.  
  
Jack's favorite inn was the Bloody Matey. He led Gibbs, Will, Anamaria, Natalie, Christian, and most of the other pirates to it as the other few went off in search of relatives, sweethearts, or other sources of fun. Will kept his eyes peeled for angry looking ladies gazing their way, and managed to hide Jack the three times a woman looked their way with a glare. He suspected that Jack's poor cheek would be heavily scarred by the time his life was over.  
  
The sign for the Bloody Matey waved creakily in the breeze. It was a rather run down place, but one of the most popular places on the entire island because the rum was good and fights were always welcome within its two swinging doors.  
  
Many of the sailors from the Pearl took seats at several of the smaller tables dotting the place. Jack and Will strode up to the bar.  
  
"Large glass o' rum, love!" Jack said to the barmaid that approached him. The woman then turned to Will, who shrugged and said, "I'll take a pint."  
  
Natalie, meanwhile, beckoned to Christian and went to the far end of the bar. A seedy old man with an eagle talon hanging out of his ear approached them. "What would you like, sir and missy?"  
  
"Rum, please. Large mug," Christian said. The old bartender then turned to Natalie.  
  
"You have anything stronger than rum?" she asked.  
  
Christian laughed as the bartender looked at her through glaring eyes. "How old would you be, missy?"  
  
"Twenty-one," Natalie answered smoothly and with the air of someone accustomed to asking for a large glass of strong liquor. Christian looked back to the bartender, wondering how he could believe that Natalie was twenty-one when she had basically the size and stature of a thirteen year old. Suddenly the bartender laughed. "I like the feisty ones," he said. "Somethin' stronger, eh? Just don't ask what's in it."  
  
The bartender returned a minute later with two foaming mugs. Christian's mouth watered. He had overheard Jack talking about Tortugan rum.  
  
Natalie took her glass in between her two small hands. She tipped her head back, not even bothering to see if her father was watching her, and drained a quarter of the mug in a single swallow. The seedy bartender watched her drain the stuff out of the corner of his eye. She placed her mug back on the table, wiped off her mouth, and said, "Good stuff."  
  
Christian tipped his own head back and attempted to drain a fourth of his own mug. He had barely gotten down the first swallow when his head reared back up and he spat the rum out of his mouth.  
  
"Vile!" he said disgustedly. Five minutes later, however, half of his mug was gone. Natalie's glass was being refilled.  
  
Three glasses for Natalie and two for Christian later, both were laughing. Will, apparently thinking that his daughter and the boy were just talking (a thought that had been induced by the four glasses of rum that he had already ingested), had retired to one of the tables in the back and was drunkenly and heartily betting five shillings in a poker match. The liquor had also inflamed Christian and Natalie. They left the bar with glazed eyes and laughing mouths. Natalie was gasping for breath and leaning against Christian.  
  
They headed down the streets, too drunk to notice the jeering catcalls directed at Natalie and the challenges directed at Christian. They ended up at the deserted dead end of a street of shacks with blackened windows. Laughing, Christian pushed his way into one of the shacks. Natalie followed, giggling.  
  
"Rum... Goo' stuff," Natalie slurred. Christian laughed and lit a piece of paper on fire to serve for a candle. The stench of the place that they had broken into did not reach their nostrils over the smell of beer emanating from their own mouths.  
  
"Yessirie," Christian said in a slightly clearer tone than Natalie's. He had already gotten used to a small amount of beer, but liquor was a new thing to Natalie.  
  
"M'be these nice folks have s'more?" Natalie asked, a dizzy spell overcoming her. She leaned against a wooden dresser that stood in the middle of the kitchen's right wall for support.  
  
Christian looked around through glazed eyes. He tried to focus on a glass cabinet in the rear of the room that had a dull green shine coming through the dirty glass. He wobbled over and opened it.  
  
"Yup," he said and picked up a bottle. He dropped it, and liquid spilled out over the toe of his boot. Natalie giggled. "Oops," she said. "T'ke an'ther one."  
  
Christian giggled also and lifted another green bottle. Suddenly he wobbled. "Guh," he muttered. "Gotta sit down."  
  
Natalie nodded and sprawled out on the floor, not noticing the dust and grime covering it. Christian lay down beside her, his paper torch merrily burning next to him on the dirt floor. He tipped the bottle upwards and drained most of it in a single swallow. Beer ran down his chin and stained the collar of his shirt.  
  
"C'n I have some?" Natalie murmured.  
  
Christian nodded and handed the bottle to her. She drank deeply, and then turned on her side to face him.  
  
Her features were illuminated in the candlelight and they were drawing closer with every passing moment. Christian slowly blinked. He felt her lips brushing softly against his own. They tasted like liquor. Christian liked liquor. He leaned in closer.  
  
Their lips touched again, slightly parted, and drew away for a second time. Christian opened his eyes.  
  
Natalie had fallen asleep. Her head rested on the floor, her hair loose around her face.  
  
Christian sighed and lifted himself heavily off the ground. He picked her up and cradled her in his arms as he walked out of the abandoned shack and went to find the Black Pearl.  
  
He tucked her into one of the rowboats and then lay down beside her. Christian fell asleep, and someone- probably Anamaria - had rowed them to shore. The next morning they woke up in Natalie's room on the two bottom bunks. Neither of them remembered what had taken place the night before, but in the bottoms of their hearts they felt that something had taken place between them.  
  
= = =  
  
The only word that kept floating across her brain was this- intoxicating. Molly felt more alive than she ever had before. There was a glass of rum sitting before her at the table, and she didn't have to take small, dainty sips. She was in a pair of breeches and a man's shirt. Her hair was stringy and messy. And best of all, there were five cards in her hand, and she had just won her first round of poker, deuces wild.  
  
Will clapped for her as Jack planted a kiss on her cheek. Molly collected the few pence reward and laughed.  
  
She was an English lady in a seedy inn on Tortuga, and she was going to be a pirate. Will's dark eyes glistened in the firelight directly across from her. Jack's bandanna was pulled down over his own eyes. Molly sighed, took a deep sip from her mug, and put it down on the table with more force than she had originally intended. Rum splashed over the side and dotted the nearby ace of spades with a few transparent dark droplets. Molly drew five more cards. Queen of hearts, three of spades, nine of diamonds, and the seven of hearts lay spread out like a fan in her hand. A useless hand. She placed the three of spades and the nine of diamonds facedown on the table and drew two more cards. The five of hearts and the four of clubs.  
  
Molly folded her hand as Jack triumphantly took the coins in the middle of the table with a full house, a three, two deuces and two aces. 


	9. Chapter Eight

~~~~~Chapter Eight ~  
  
~~  
  
~~~  
  
~~  
  
~  
  
"FATHER, YOU MUST BE JOKIN'."  
  
Will Turner stood in the middle of Natalie's cramped room, a slightly sheepish look upon his face. A piece of curiously fluffy cloth was folded between his fingers. Natalie stood in front of him, her features tightened and tense.  
  
Will began to speak again, but he changed his mind mid-syllable and said, "Well, I thought it was time for you to at least try to act like a lady."  
  
"Like a stiff on shore?" Natalie said casually, but her eyes betrayed her annoyance. "I'll not be one to be laced into clothing, thank you."  
  
Will frowned. "Can't you stop being stubborn for a moment? Just for a single moment so I can have me some peace. You won't be workin' for a while, so why can't you try to act like a woman of your station?"  
  
"My station?" Natalie scoffed. "If I knew him, I would say that you sounded like old Grandpop Swann. Mum didn't act like her station. She was a gov'nur's daughter and you're a blacksmith and me, I'm a pirate. I don't care if I'll not be workin'. You won't get that dress onto me body if you have to kill me first."  
  
She pointed to the wad of pink fabric in her father's hands. Will stood still for a few moments, and then folded the dress into an even smaller square and thrust it into his daughter's arms. He left without saying a word. Will Turner had known the outcome of the argument before he had even thought of asking his daughter to at least try on the dress. As he walked, he sighed. Will just wanted what Elizabeth wanted.  
  
Would she want to lace Nat up in fabric? Will thought to himself as he walked back on deck. He shook his head. It was at least worth the try.  
  
Back in her cabin, Natalie tried to ignore the tendrils of guilt creeping up into her stomach. She had known that she would upset him, but seeing the unhappy look upon her father's face made her feel awful.  
  
I'm the cause of all his misery, she thought to herself. The dress made small crinkling noises as she moved around the enclosed space. Frustrated, she threw the dress onto one of the bottom bunks and folded her arms across her chest. As Natalie glared at it, she finally threw up her hands.  
  
"Fine," she muttered to herself as she slipped out of her breeches and pulled the skirt around her legs. "Just fine."  
  
Natalie buttoned the dress by herself the best she knew how and then stepped over to look in the grimy mirror. She could see her face, the face of a pirate, looking back at her, and she took that as a good sign as she looked down at the fat pink fabric.  
  
Looking into her own eyes, she uncomfortably shimmied her shoulders around and took a few steps. The fabric floated around her. Natalie sat down on the bunk and folded her hands into her lap.  
  
The door opened. Natalie's head jerked up and saw Christian's startled eyes gazing down at her. In a single motion she leaped up and slammed the door.  
  
"Crikey, Christian Jones, if you say nary a word or try to open this door again I'll kill ye faster than you can say Davey Jones's locker!" Natalie yelled weakly through the door. She heard him laughing on the other side. Angrily she opened the door a few inches and poked her head out.  
  
Christian was doubled over. He looked up and through the tears in his eyes saw Natalie glaring at him, her hair falling out of the loop of string that sometimes held it back behind her ears.  
  
"Nary a word," the girl growled before she slammed the door. Christian made his way back to the deck. He was still laughing.  
  
His father, meanwhile, was not amused at any situation. Ed was thinking. He had twenty of his finest men grouped about him, and he was thinking about what he was going to say. Finally he stood and cleared his throat.  
  
"Righto, boys," Ed said, clapping his hands on his thighs. A few weary eyes turned to look at him, but most stayed hidden in the owner's hands. Ed coughed. A few more looked up.  
  
"I," he announced proudly, "have a plan."  
  
"Right, Ed, right," a smuggler known only as Bait shouted out. "Last time ye had a plan it landed us in the brig!"  
  
"Shut up, you!" Ed yelled. "Yeah, I got me a plan and its gonna work for me whether or not ye imbeciles are in on it or not!"  
  
A few mutters erupted and desisted for a moment. Ed spoke again.  
  
"I heard me a tale back on land," he said gruffly. "They're sayin' that Snow Curtis Nelson is back and angrier than ever. He's got a bone 'gainst the Black Pearl and Cap'n Jack Sparrow. He's comin' to attack, if me sources are right. Now, we're gonna help 'im, on'y we're gonna do it from the inside."  
  
With a flourish, Ed pulled out his pockets and revealed five tubes. The onlookers gasped.  
  
"Gunpowder," Ed said, nodding at his own genius. "Fools left it 'round just outside me cell for storage purposes. It's old, but it'll work. Now, when Nelson attacks, we just use all our will pow'r 'n break outta these here cells. We lay down a trail of this powder here, light it on fire and hightail outta this cell'r and attack."  
  
Most of the people near the front nodded in agreement, but Bait was not swayed. Once Ed sat down, he gathered a few men around him.  
  
"Now, who else thinks this plan is the stupidest thing they ev'r heard?" Bait said gruffly. Most of the men nodded. Others put their heads down- Ed's plan had been their last hope.  
  
"I got me another one. When Ed finds it fit to blow this place up, we just leap off deck and go over to Nelson. He'll be needin' a few more hardy sailors after the Pearl is done wit him."  
  
Again, most of the men nodded. They were in no condition to fight the legendary sailors of the Black Pearl, let alone "use all our will pow'r 'n break outta these here cells." To them, Bait's plan was the single ray of light that would ever hit the men inside of Ed Jones's wayward plan.  
  
= = =  
  
Captain Jack Sparrow took out his compass, his left hand resting on the steering wheel. After a few moments of looking at his trusty tool and then back on the horizon, Jack shut the case and began to hum.  
  
Yo ho yo ho a pirate's life for me.  
  
We pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot.  
  
Drink up me 'earties yo ho!  
  
We kidnap and pillage and don't give a hoot.  
  
Drink up me 'earties yo ho!  
  
Finishing the verse, Jack looked up at the crow's nest, where just a hint of Molly's red hair could be seen streaming out behind her in the wind. Backtracking over the song, he whispered to himself, "We kidnap and pillage and don't give a hoot."  
  
He shook his head to clear it and turned the wheel slightly to the port side.  
  
A/N: Sorry this one is even shorter than the others. I got the song from the Internet, so I didn't go to the movies and write it down. 


	10. Chapter Nine

~~~~~Chapter Nine ~  
  
~~  
  
~~~  
  
~~  
  
~  
  
THE NIGHT WAS WARM, BUT A WIND SWEEPED THROUGH THE LOWER SAILS AND LIGHTLY RUFFLED JACK SPARROW'S HAIR AS HE APPROACHED THE BOW OF HIS BELOVED SHIP. They had anchored for the night and Jack had walked away from the merriness of the crew below decks for a quiet moment just to himself, with nothing but a glass of rum.  
  
The taste was sweet as it slipped down his throat and looked out over the ocean, over the depths, to his destination.  
  
Meanwhile, the crew, with Gibbs at its head playing a made-up tune on his old and worn fiddle, was celebrating the return to the Isle de la Muerta. It was like going home to some; it was like going to a place well loved for others. For Molly Ringwald, it was like going to an enchanted place, full of danger and adventure, for she had seen Tortuga, the one place where pirates were safe, and now she was headed off to the second and last symbol of the pirate dream: an island full of treasure that was hidden from all eyes but their own.  
  
Will was taking his rum quietly in a somewhat secluded corner. He observed the sailors, he watched Anamaria slapping a young man on the face, and he saw Natalie talking to the Jones boy, a smile on her face that had just a touch of sheepishness. Will's brows drew together. Natalie had never been reticent. It just appeared that she was shy, because she was quiet.  
  
He turned from his daughter back to his rum, which, after many years of being a pirate, he had found quite filling and succulent. Will had long ago realized that his baby would someday grow into a woman, but even then he knew that it would be hard. She was all that he had left, the only person save Jack that he could truly trust with his life.  
  
Elizabeth would have been proud, he thought as he drained the glass and sloshed more into it from a bottle at his side. Will's eyes began to film and his vision grew misty as he recognized the drunken torpor that he was falling into. He had seen Jack drunk many times and realized that he must look exactly like him.  
  
A flash of red entered his vision, a grinning face. The film cleared a little, and Will found that he could see clearly. "Hullo," said Molly, smiling. "How long will it be 'till we get to the island?"  
  
Will grinned and shrugged. "A week, pr'haps. Don't know, really."  
  
Molly grinned and sat next to him, taking a long draught from his glass. "Excellent," she said after she had wiped off her mouth with her sleeve. Will suddenly remembered Elizabeth, lightly dabbing her mouth with a napkin even when she was dressed in pirate garb. He grinned at the vision, the tidbits of Elizabeth that still remained with him.  
  
"I was afraid we'd be sailing for a month," Molly had continued as Will reminisced. "What's the island like, Will?"  
  
Will raised his arms, knocking over his nearly empty glass that had been placed on the table beside him. "Lotsa rocks. Big rocks. Lots of gold too. You'll be likin' it there, Molly. Fits you."  
  
He could see that her eyes had grown wide with anticipation. He smiled and leaned forwards a little. "Y'know, Molly, Jack. I think Jack's takin' a fancy to ye."  
  
Molly scrunched up her face in confusion. "Jack?"  
  
"Since the first time he saw ye and ye asked to come on board the Pearl," Will answered. "You'll be goin' to look for him now, won't you, Molly? He'll be right pleased. Pretty girl like you that ain't gonna go 'round betrayin' 'im. 'E'l be fine, right fine. hand be more o' that rum, will ye, lass?"  
  
Will's head dropped forwards onto his chest. Molly grinned quietly and laid him face up on the bench.  
  
"I'll be goin' to find Jack now," Molly said, imitating Will's drunken pirate speech, as she began to climb the steps to the forecastle deck.  
  
Across the room, Natalie was defending herself to Christian about wearing a dress.  
  
"No, I not be wearin' it by choice," Natalie said, laughing, liquid dripping over her mug. Me dad's tryin' to make me into a right British lass, just like me mum. That ain't happenin', though. Not a chance in the deepest realms of Davey Jones's locker. Ain't a big deal, neither."  
  
"Then why be you wearin' it, then?" Christian said, his tone laughing as he took a deep drink from his own mug.  
  
Natalie shrugged as she felt the rum begin to take her to the blissful dominion of intoxication. "Curious. Haven't seen many ladies wearin' dresses before. Back home, they're all tight and short and all. But what does a nice dress look like?"  
  
Christian shrugged. "Don't rightly know meself. Why don't you show me?"  
  
"Never, Christian. I'm a pirate, right by blood I am. I ain't gonna go dressin' around like some prick."  
  
"But ye're half lady, too. Ye gots a mother, right? A fine mum."  
  
Natalie looked at Christian to see whether or not the boy was serious and found him staring right back at her. Unsettled, she turned back to her beer. "Yeah, me mum was a right lady, but she married a pirate, didn't she? I think her to be somethin' like Molly. A lady, but. somethin' else too."  
  
"A scallywag!" Christian said, and raised his mug high up into the air. Natalie, with a mockingly serious expression upon her elfin figures, raised her mug up into the air also. Their glasses clicked, they drunk and then slammed the mugs back onto the bar.  
  
= = =  
  
She saw his figure silhouetted in the moonlight against a backdrop of stars, masts and ropes. Approaching him without making a sound, she skirted ropes and cast away boxes as she approached the bow. Finally, when she was close enough, she spoke.  
  
"There you are, Jack. I've been looking for you."  
  
Jack turned, smiled, and gave her his hand to help her the last few steps of the way. "Hullo, Molly. You be lookin' for me? I been right here."  
  
"Yes, I know that." Molly looked out over the ocean, breakers making soft, lulling noises as they slapped against the side of the Pearl's hull. "Jack. why did you really take me on board?"  
  
"Needed another sailor."  
  
"You couldn't have used one of the smugglers that you had captured?"  
  
"Can't trust smugglers, 'cept to be dishonest. Ye never know when they'll switch sides again."  
  
Molly looked at his profile in the moonlight and dared the question. "Then, Jack, why should I trust you?"  
  
Jack grinned and spread his arms wide as he turned his face towards her. "Because, love. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."  
  
Molly grinned. "Fine, then. I trust you. But I trust you to tell me the truth about why you wanted an untrained woman on board your precious ship."  
  
Jack swallowed a sip of rum and grinned again. "Because, love, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, and Captain Jack Sparrow knows who his friends are."  
  
"But you didn't know me."  
  
"And I don't really know you now, do I, love?"  
  
Molly smiled, a small smile, and looked away. "Not really. But what do you know?"  
  
"I know that I love you."  
  
"Really, Jack. Why did you take me on board your ship? The question's been bothering me ever since you took me in. Don't you think that I deserve the truth?"  
  
"I just gave it to ye, love."  
  
"Jack. The truth."  
  
Jack stepped forwards, but Molly continued to stare him down.  
  
"Because, love," he said, and then he leaned down, his lips searching hers on a warm moonlit night.  
  
He had been telling the truth, Molly realized, as she realized what was in the depths of her own heart and began to kiss him back.  
  
A/N: Another short one. Sorry, folks.  
  
A few updates that ya'll should be aware of: A new school year has started! Whoopee. Which means that you'll be busier, and I'll be busier, and you won't check up on this little fic of mine as often and I won't write as often. Unless I'm really bored in class, which is bound to happen. My sister, Sihaya, is writing a really good Pirates of the Caribbean fic called "The Loved and the Lost." I've read it and it's awesome. If you feel like reading something new, do me a favor and check it out. I have now seen this movie four times. YAY! I'm still not tired of it. Which is why I'm still writing. If you guys like Harry Potter in general and Draco Malfoy in particular, please check out my fic "Born Again." I think its really good but it hasn't been reviewed yet. ( If you guys want me to read your fics- which I probably will anyway- please just email me or tell me if you want me to read and review them or beta read or whatever. Constructive criticism welcome! 


	11. Chapter Ten

Sorry that it's been a while, guys. I'm trying to get in tune with the new school year and the (gasp!) high school.  
  
A few points that were in my last A/N:  
  
My sister, Sihaya, is writing a really good Pirates of the Caribbean fic called "The Loved and the Lost." I've read it and it's awesome. If you feel like reading something new, do me a favor and check it out. If you guys like Harry Potter in general and Draco Malfoy in particular, please check out my fic "Choices of Destiny." If you guys want me to read your fics- which I probably will anyway- please just email me or tell me if you want me to read and review them or beta read or whatever.  
  
~~~~~Chapter Ten ~  
  
~~  
  
~~~  
  
~~  
  
~  
  
THE MENTOR WAS A GOOD SHIP, ONE OF THE MANY PRIDES OF THE BRITISH ROYAL NAVY. She was strong in the stern and light in the sail, and with a good tailwind Snow Curtis Nelson was able to set anchor on the sixth night in sight of the Isle de la Muerta.  
  
Johnnieboy, Snow Curtis's favorite, was happy with excitement. The boy's good humor was contagious, and Snow Curtis smiled as he wondered how the boy had ever come under his command. The smile slowly melted off his face, however, as he looked out to sea.  
  
He would kill Jack Sparrow and his crew after he had taken their treasure and destroyed their home. A detail of Snow Curtis's plan was slowly burning in the back of his mind, for he knew that the crew of the Black Pearl held their island home of Tortuga dear. His own pirates were nomads of the sea. They moved where the wind shifted if it blew towards treasure.  
  
He would make one last stop before killing Jack Sparrow, and in that last stop he would destroy the heart of all pirates, and all other names would be forgotten as the people knew that in burning the island of Tortuga, Snow Curtis would nail himself firmly into history and take the Pearl as his own.  
  
I'll make Johnnieboy head of the Mentor, Snow Curtis decided as he took a long draught of something thick and vile out of a black and crusty mug and studied the shoreline of the islet.  
  
= = =  
  
The day dawned brightly for the captains of both the Mentor and the Black Pearl.  
  
Snow Curtis sent his men aboard in the rowboats. They took as much as they could without swamping the boats, ominously avoiding the dusty chest of Aztec gold that stood guard on a pile of treasure. Then they went back, until the entire hoard of the infamous crew of the Black Pearl was gone.  
  
The vagabond captain surveyed his men taking the treasure down to the cargo holds, which had remained empty until now, the space beckoning to be filled. A grim smile played across Snow Curtis's lips as he watched the gold sparkle in the late morning sunshine as the mist and dew burned away around them. Only shrouds of mist crowned the dormant volcano on the island's apex.  
  
Once the last dinghy was brought back on board and the few strands of stray seaweed were brushed off, Snow Curtis lifted the anchors and turned back out of the shadows of the Isle de la Muerta.  
  
"Tortuga," he muttered happily as he steered out of the natural harbor and turned hard to port.  
  
For Captain Jack Sparrow, he felt on top of the world. Every time he caught a glimpse of Molly's streaming red locks he laughed. Gibbs had already given him more than one evil eyed look. Will just worked about the ship, performing his duties with just a touch of melancholy. He was happy for Jack that he had found a woman, but true love was once again on board the Peal, and it did not rein in Will's heart.  
  
Molly herself was feeling euphoria similar to Jack's, and she enjoyed evermore the feeling of the wind whipping her hair, free of pillbox hats and bows at last, around her rosy face. She felt alive among the billowing white sheets of the sails, and she knew that she had found where she had belonged.  
  
Natalie had soon tired of watching others work on her ship, so she contented herself with performing menial tasks in the galley. The ever- present smell of food tempted her, and she often found herself sneaking scraps between meals. Sometimes she would set aside a pocketful of snippets for Christian, who had never before tasted the makings of a stew. His father had survived on the rats found in the holes on his ship.  
  
The weight Natalie had lost in only a few bedridden days was returning, and the soft glow was returning to her face. Christian often visited her, and she noticed that his face was tanning to even deeper shades. His black hair was beginning to flop into his eyes.  
  
Five days passed in this manner. Natalie found her strength returning, and she often spent her nights with Christian sitting on the deck, talking about everything from their parents and their pasts to how to tie a knot correctly.  
  
On the sixth night Christian and Natalie were also keeping their eyes on the horizon as they talked. Jack had told the crew that they would probably reach Isle de la Muerta in the night or early morning hours. Christian was excited to see this new place, to know what it was like to truly be a pirate and be surrounded by treasure pilfered with insatiable greed. Natalie simply wished to see one of her many homes again.  
  
"'Ave you ever tasted good rum?" she asked Christian after a long but comfortable silence. During the last two weeks she had noticed his fear of the unknown slipping away. He would now talk to her- and look at her- readily.  
  
"Aye. On Perennials, I think." Christian frowned as a memory flitted across his mind, an unwanted memory of something that tasted vile but good, a paper torch and green eyes.  
  
"No. I think it was here," Christian said slowly. "Not on the ship. Tortuga! Damned best rum."  
  
"Aye. 'Ad me first glass with ye."  
  
"Really? Thought you'd had it afore. Seemed good enough at stomachin' it."  
  
"Nah, 'twas me first mug." Suddenly her cheeks deepened with color as the full memory of the night rushed over her. something soft against her mouth. long shadows. liquor, lots of liquor, and then a pounding headache in the morning.  
  
She looked sideways at Christian and saw him frowning. She pictured the images of the night racing across his own mind and suddenly began to stutter.  
  
"Gotta go. me dad. somethin' bout. er. biscuits?" Natalie said, and ran off.  
  
Christian looked behind him and wondered how she had come up with an excuse so fast, when he had been searching for one himself.  
  
= = =  
  
The Mentor was laden with treasure, and now Snow Curtis took his time leisurely, like a cat waiting patiently and sleepily for a stupid mouse to move close enough to kill it and devour it whole. His crew, even Johnnieboy, cast nervous looks towards the bridge and the perpetual smile on their captain's lips.  
  
The two named Steelbreath and Incisor talked out of the corner of their mouths. They doubted the sanity of Snow Curtis and speculated among themselves whether or not they were going into a deathtrap now that they had secured the infamous treasure of the Isle de la Muerta. Knifehilt and Donkeylung sometimes joined the conversation. The four never questioned their own sanity, or why they had accepted the mission in the first place.  
  
But when Tortuga finally pulled into sight, the doubts of the four scallywags were forgotten.  
  
Snow Curtis laid low in the first rowboat. A ship coming into the harbor of Tortuga was no unusual thing, but Snow Curtis feared that someone might recognize him. After all, he wasn't very well liked among the mainstream of the pirate world.  
  
The boat pulled into the shadows, and Hornet slipped out silently and tugged it ashore. Similarly, men were slipping out of the other rowboats and towing them to the silted shore.  
  
The men hurried through the streets. They knew beforehand where to go. Snow Curtis Nelson was a meticulous planner, and no detail was left hanging.  
  
He took Knifehilt and Johnnieboy aside as the rest of the men slithered into the night. The two men were small and lanky, but they could easily slip around corners and between gaps. Once the last shadow melted into darkness, he led them to a crowded bar with a hostel on the second floor. Snow Curtis unsheathed his dagger from his boot as he circled the building until a shaky wooden door stood in front of him. Knifehilt went in, but Johnnieboy gave slight pause before stepping into the dark and musty room.  
  
Like any good pirate, Snow Curtis knew the many uses of whiskey. He smiled by the light of a single sputtering torch. The light shone on his teeth as he followed his two men, silent as a leopard creeping in the jungle brush.  
  
Once inside the room, Snow Curtis signaled Knifehilt, who immediately began to pile barrels of rum, beer, and whiskey outside of the rickety door. Johnnieboy took the torch off of a bracket on the wall. Shadows played across his face in the flame's rusty golden light.  
  
As Knifehilt piled up the kegs outside of the bar in the narrow path between this building and the next, Snow Curtis approached the entrance of the alleyway, his eyes slitted, calculating, cunning and ruthless. Soon he found what he sought, and a low whistle pierced the air, streaming through his pursed lips. The malnourished donkey at the end of the street looked up expectantly, wanting a scrap or morsel to eat, and began to trot slowly forwards towards Snow Curtis, the cart attached to its back rattling with a rusty, grating racket on its chain.  
  
Snow Curtis smiled coldly and loaded three kegs onto the cart. He could hear the sounds of fighting and laughter in the bar, and his heart did not falter. They were all going to die, burn to a well-done crisp, but Snow Curtis had learned to shield himself from emotion a long time ago. It was what had made him so successful in his chosen path.  
  
It was around two in the morning before their task was complete. Snow Curtis had placed barrels all along his portion of the roads. His other men were completing their own sections now. There was flammable liquid in every street, and as a black flag waved from the direction of the quay Johnnieboy squeezed his eyes shut and dipped the torch to the first group of three.  
  
= = =  
  
Her hands were knobby and thin, and her legs were weaker than they had once been, but every gray hair was carefully hidden under a pile of blonde tresses and every pale cell on her gray face was hidden underneath a pile of powder and rouge. Giselle's countenance, at least, had not changed in the twenty-two years since Jack had last seen her. Though she had been reduced to drying glasses in the Honeydew bar, she was still ornery and her eyes still held the spark of life that made Giselle the person that she was.  
  
Scarlett worked alongside her, but her back was arthritic. Giselle often snapped at the lazy swine.  
  
Tonight was no exception. The midnight rush seemed heavier than usual, and Scarlett seemed to be aching something awful.  
  
"Dammit, Giselle!" cried out Scarlett, throwing her dishtowel onto the bar, where it landed on a patron's bowed head. A loud snore erupted, and then drizzled down into a stuffy breath. "Won't have ye snappin' a' me ev'ry two seconds! Ain't me own fault I'm a' cursed with a bad back!"  
  
"Aye, shut you're mouth n' stop complainin'! Tis all we've got! Now work!"  
  
Giselle threw down her own towel and stretched. Her eyes opened slightly as she leaned back and moved her arms around.  
  
"Ey, Scarlett," Giselle said, the previous scuffle forgotten, "what time 'es it?"  
  
"Two," Scarlett replied shortly.  
  
Giselle leaned forwards and narrowed her eyes. "Sun don't rise at two, does it now?"  
  
Scarlett sighed, exasperated with her friend and with the pain in her back, but she leaned forwards and looked out of the window across the room. She frowned, her dyed red eyebrows drawing together in a crease.  
  
"Ain't so," she whispered. Her back forgotten, she strode quickly to the door and opened it.  
  
Screams greeted her ears, and her nose caught the acrid and unmistakable scent of smoke. The entire western quarter of Tortuga seemed to be ablaze. Moments later, Giselle hurried out, wiping her hands on her apron.  
  
"By me," she said softly as she viewed the carnage. Drunken men walked slowly down the streets. Some of them were singing. Some of the drunken men that were singing were waving their limps about, not knowing that their hand or arm had been horribly charred beyond recognition.  
  
Tortuga was burning. The false dawn had only brought a night darker than ever. 


	12. Chapter Eleven

~~~~~Chapter Eleven ~  
  
~~  
  
~~~  
  
~~  
  
~  
  
JACK SPARROW SPUN THE STEERING WHEEL AND FLIPPED THE COVER OF HIS COMPASS CLOSED. He then swept his arm around Gibbs's waist.  
  
"Drink up, me 'earties! Really bad eggs!" he yelled happily as Gibbs sputtered in protest. "Yo, ho, ho, ho! A pirate's life for me! Come on, dear William, sing!"  
  
Will grinned gently as he felt the salty spray and the fresh breeze caressing his face and whipping his sleeves around his corded arms. He fastened the rope of the sail to the rail and began to sing softly along with his friend. As they carried on, Will's voice, as well as Jack's, grew in timbre and pitch until the wind whipped the words from the old dirge from their mouths and carried them up, up to the crow's nest where a young woman smiled at the sound. Molly smiled and began to hum along with the tune as she kept her eyes peeled for the slightest hint of land. Suddenly a shadow appeared on the horizon. Molly excitedly reached for the bell pull and tugged it over and over again.  
  
"Land ho!"  
  
Immediately the pirates on deck below her dropped their work and rushed to the starboard side of the ship. Jack Sparrow let go of the steering wheel altogether and ran to the side, ignoring the whooshing sound the wheel made as it turned itself hard to port behind him.  
  
"'Tis the Isle de la Muerta!" Jack yelled, unnecessarily and joyously. Will quickly checked the slipknot he had used to tie the sail in place and rushed to see the grey cliffs rise out of the mist.  
  
Natalie, down below in the galley, herd feet pounding rhythmically above her on deck. She hastily wiped her hands on her apron and ran above decks.  
  
The Isle de la Muerta rose out of the mist, a tall and imposing sight to some, but a pair of open arms for the pirates who manned the Black Pearl.  
  
Molly climbed down the ladder from the crow's nest and stood a few paces back from the rail. The lad Christian stood in front of her. Gibbs, Jack, and Will stood on deck, cheering while they leaned over the rail. Natalie leaped onto the rail itself and one brown hand clasped a rope for balance, her face as bright as the hurricane dawn.  
  
Standing apart from the festivities, Molly and Christian stared at the twin walls of grey stone as Jack dropped the anchor.  
  
Natalie gazed at the hard ridges of stone, every cleft known to her. The rope chafed lightly around her fingers, and she reluctantly let go of the rope and stepped off of the rail. Tripping slightly on her way down, Natalie regained balance and looked up.  
  
Christian stood, transfixed by the arms of stone. Natalie went to him. His eyes never left the shades cast by the rock and the sea.  
  
"Aye, the shadows be darker in places you don't know," Natalie said gently. Her eyes never left his face though her eye level was equal with his shoulder blades. Quietly, slowly, she placed a hand on his shoulder. Natalie did not understand Christian's abstract fear of legend and myth, but she resolved to herself that she would know his spirit.  
  
There was just something about him that riveted her.  
  
= = =  
  
Christian gazed ahead to the Isle de la Muerta. Fate, he mused. I am the quiet son of a smuggler. The smuggler is now in the brig of the son's pirate ship.  
  
From a place far away, Natalie's words penetrated his ears and saturated him. An unconscious part of his mind recognized the depth and value of her meaning. But it was the touch of her hand on his shoulder that electrocuted and frazzled his senses into a new birth. The hand, the small, calloused brown hand that had been through over a decade of hard work that Christian had so quickly found himself to be a part of. He tensed and relaxed in an instant, inhaling and exhaling, and Natalie stepped closer, her dark eyes boring into every feature of his face. Though penetrating, Christian was not disturbed by the stare as he once had been.  
  
He loved her.  
  
"Aye, drop the boats and row ashore, ye scallywags!" Jack yelled, his voice housing only a touch of sternness.  
  
Christian, before the moment totally escaped him, raised his hand and placed it on top of Natalie's, which was still resting on his shoulder.  
  
Natalie looked at the hand resting on top of hers and smiled.  
  
Will climbed down the rope ladder to the first rowboat. He looked up, prepared to catch whatever Jack might throw down to him, rope or supplies or any other miscellaneous objects, but his eyes caught something else.  
  
Natalie and the son of a smuggler.  
  
Something tugged at Will's chest and he lurched, though the feeling was emotional and not a physical pull. He was scared for his daughter, happy for her, proud of her. and in that moment Natalie turned and the sun caught her slight figure and shone her golden, and her face was Elizabeth's. For a moment the woman's spirit was so palpable next to Will's heart that he could have reached out and touched it, only to see it evaporate around his hand like mist.  
  
He shook the daydream out of his head and returned to the task at hand.  
  
= = =  
  
The draft from the tunnel entrance was cool against Natalie's neck. The stray pieces that had escaped the piece of rope that they had been tied up with lifted up into the air. She clung to the torch in the second boat, her eyes scanning the muddy bottom of the stream for the occasional glint of gold that never appeared.  
  
Natalie frowned. The wind was louder, and it echoed in the vast caverns before her.  
  
Christian coughed from somewhere behind her. She allowed herself to turn around slightly and direct a small smile to a spot two feet to the left of his head.  
  
"Bloody dammit! Lookee here!"  
  
The voice was Jack Sparrow's, and Natalie started as he continued his impressive volley of curses. His voice echoed strangely back at her.  
  
The cavern that had held the wealth that had made the Black Pearl infamous among her peers was gone. Cold grey stone loomed back at them. The only piece that remained untouched in the room, which seemed so much larger and emptier than it once had, was the chest engraved with drawings and Aztec words. The thieves had known well enough not to go near it.  
  
Will looked around, his brown melancholy eyes large in the darkness. Everything was gone. Not a bloody coin remained to be spent.  
  
"Bloody." Jack said tiredly, his mouth exhausted from the words that he had just unleashed upon the empty cavern.  
  
"Blerry buggers," Will agreed as Jack sank down into the bowels of the rowboat. Years of work gone in a heartbeat. Will's lungs contracted. He really was a pirate.  
  
He kicked the side of the boat for comfort, and began to scream at the stone walls. The tirade went on for several minutes and none of the words that Jack had spoken were reused.  
  
Natalie gazed around the room, her eyebrows meeting in the center of her forehead. Christian looked around with uncertainty.  
  
"Good thing Gibbs ain't here to see this," Jack muttered from the bottom of the boat. Gibbs and several others had been left behind to guard the prisoners, including Ed Jones.  
  
Will furiously dug his paddle into the mud of the bank and turned the craft around. The pirates began to row back to their ship- the only treasure that had been left to them.  
  
= = =  
  
I really should retire soon, Commodore Norrington thought to himself as he stood on the dock, his hands behind his back, chafing slightly against the blue brocade of his coat. I'm getting old. Even Gillette's eyes are beginning to get lined.  
  
He sighed and shook his head. After this business with the Mentor is finished, the commodore promised himself. It's my fault that the ship was stolen.  
  
The sun was setting and the dark velvety blue of night was beginning to set in above the many masts that cluttered together like trees in the harbors of Port Royal.  
  
As always happened when the Commodore stood alone on a dock at sunset, his right hand brushed his left and he started.  
  
Elizabeth. his left hand would be adorned if she had lived. Adorned with the symbol of his love for her, even if it was just a simple golden band encircling his finger.  
  
The sun sank into the ocean, turning the clouds a soft, pink, rosy color. The color of her cheeks, the light hazel of her eyes, the color of the sea's shadows... It could have all been his. She could have been his, but she had found another. A blacksmith. A pirate.  
  
The word still tasted sour on his lips, but Commodore Norrington had learned to combat the feelings that had once risen to his heart when he heard that word. He had taken good care of her, and now she belonged to the sea and the sky and the moon. She was where she belonged. but he hadn't even been able to say goodbye.  
  
Jack Sparrow. he had needed Will. He had come to Port Royal in the night, under the cover of darkness. He knew that if any of the soldiers saw him, he would be shot dead on the spot. Turner had slipped from his shop, and had run to the Governor's house. he had thrown rocks at the windowpanes, and Elizabeth, a light sleeper after what was afterwards referred to as the Barbossa incident, had awoken. she too had slipped out and had joined her beloved and his master on the sea. Norrington could imagine her, a lithe form clad in white, running lightly down the drive towards the man that meant the world to her and the man that had saved her life on more than one occasion.  
  
Governor Swann's life had gone on, but behind the eyes there was a perpetual shadow. Six years after Elizabeth's disappearance, he had died. A year afterwards, the note had arrived at the household, informing the staff of Elizabeth's death. It had been signed "The Blacksmith."  
  
A tear gathered at the corner of his eye, and he brushed it away.  
  
It had been twenty-two years since she had gone. He would not continue to weep over what he had lost. 


	13. Chapter Twelve

Hey ya'll. Refer back to Chapter Eight if you've forgotten anything about Ed and the smugglers. Sorry its been a while.  
  
~~~~~Chapter Twelve ~  
  
~~  
  
~~~  
  
~~  
  
~  
  
THERE WAS SILENCE UPON THE SHIP AS JACK RAISED THE ANCHOR AND GAVE THE ORDER FOR THE CREW TO PREPARE FOR A JOURNEY BACK TO TORTUGA- FOR WHERE ELSE WAS THERE TO GO? They were vagabonds now, their treasure gone and only their name and their legend to sustain them in the world of the scallywags and smugglers.  
  
Which wasn't much, as the famous raids of the Black Pearl had been made in Barbossa's reign.  
  
Jack Sparrow sat in his cabin, rubbing his hands together and staring at a particular grain of wood in the wall. Molly had already been by twice, and twice Jack had sent her away.  
  
We're vagabonds, then, Jack thought. We'll just have to build ourselves back up again.  
  
Now just to give the order to watch out for ships on the horizon.  
  
But Jack couldn't seem to get his arse off the chair. With a defeated sigh, he settled back down and continued to stare at the wall, hoping that Molly would come by again so that he could tell her, as she being the crow's watch, of his order.  
  
But she didn't, because Molly was currently up in the crow's nest, eyes peeled for land or lights that she knew would not come. She was so absorbed in her task that she did not notice the light footsteps coming up the ladder behind her.  
  
"Expectin' to see anything, or would you be just hopin'?"  
  
Molly smiled slightly at the familiar warm voice. Even though she knew that the loss of the treasure had hit all of the pirates with a sadistic blow, Molly had suspected that Will would not mope about over it.  
  
"You're still more man than pirate, Will Turner," said Molly without turning around. She leaned both of her elbows on the rail and folded her arms. Will laughed quietly behind her, but a strain of melancholy made the chuckle sound depressing.  
  
"It just be treasure, Will." A moment later, Molly caught herself. Just be treasure? "It's just treasure," she corrected.  
  
"Aye," he said and leaned his own elbows on the rail. He let his forearms dangle over the bar. "But who could have done such a thing?"  
  
"Another pirate."  
  
"Aye. but who would know where the isle was?"  
  
= = =  
  
Edward was tired.  
  
So tired.  
  
His bones ached in protest to every move.  
  
He could feel his heart pounding in his brain.  
  
So tired.  
  
So tired.  
  
No. His head snapped up, awake.  
  
So tired.  
  
No plan.  
  
Plan before sleep.  
  
But we have a plan!  
  
Not a good one.  
  
Damn.  
  
Simple enough, though.  
  
Simple never works.  
  
Simple always works!  
  
But the crew's muttering. They ain't pleased.  
  
Bait's at the center of it.  
  
Or he seems to be.  
  
Bait's a good man. Good sailor.  
  
Good smuggler. He's a betrayer and has betrayed other masters before! What makes me so different?  
  
Aye.  
  
But the gunpowder! It'll work! It has too!  
  
Aye.  
  
'Tis all we got.  
  
But does anyone got matches?  
  
Ed tried to lift his head from the floor, but to no avail. He tried to part his lips, and with a sufficient amount of energy and willpower he forced the twin pink slabs apart and drew in a breath.  
  
"Matches." he muttered.  
  
A few men huddled together in the corner for warmth and to remain dry gave him a baleful glance before turning back into the collective body heat. A burst of sea spray came through the open porthole and drenched the few who had been stupid enough to remain in its path. The rest of the crew was lined along the walls, avoiding the line of mold that ran down the center of the cell.  
  
Ed sunk back down into the private hell of his own mind.  
  
They ain't gonna go along.  
  
Bait's up to something.  
  
Indeed, Bait was huddled around five other men, talking in low tones and often testing their wait against that of the cast iron bars, only to fall back into the group again. The bars were strong, Ed could give the welder that. Half pin-barrel hinges. Proper application of force should brake 'em free. but was the crew on his side?  
  
His side or not, they wanted to bust free.  
  
Bait and me, men. Bait and me.  
  
Bait indeed had commandeered the thoughts of many of the men back to reality with quiet arguments and a sufficient amount of prodding. The man Ed had been with them through and through, but Bait had been also, and now they were in the brig of the best known pirate ship around under the command of Jack Sparrow himself. Bad decisions were made, but the consequences. could they be forgiven?  
  
= = =  
  
He held up the shaft of his knife to the ceiling of the cabin. The blade glowed silver in the light from the oil lanterns. Dark stains danced upon the edge; real or imaginary the lad known as Johnnieboy did not want to know.  
  
Snow Curtis's hand tightened around the knife. The entire company had gathered here before him, in this cabin on the bridge. It was starting now, truly starting. The crew tasted blood, hot spicy blood than ran over their tongues and stained their teeth. It had begun with Tortuga. The energy, the euphoria left over from the attack was electric, springing from man to man in drops of spittle and sweat. Hoot, Iron Fist, Coldheart, Steelbreath, Blade, Hornet, Icechip, Incisor, Hook, Lineman, Donkeylung, Scale, Mulemouth, Hopper, Animal, Sinker, Bunker, Dagger, Bait (a boy only slightly older than Johnnieboy and no doubt named for his father), Knifehilt, Coldplate, Sharktooth, Bearclaw. They were all proud of what they had done, and they wanted more.  
  
Snow Curtis continued to point his dagger towards the ceiling. The force with which he gripped the wooden handle was so great that his knuckles turned white. He felt the energy and happiness of his men.  
  
"We have our treasure," he said, in a voice between a croak and a mutter.  
  
"Aye!" a man yelled from the back of the room.  
  
"But will we remain hunted men?" Snow Curtis suddenly yelled, a swift change of pace in his voice.  
  
"Nay!" the men yelled back.  
  
Snow Curtis suddenly brought the knife down in a swift stroke. It lay embedded in the wooden table before him. The handle stuck out of the wood like a hand reaching out of the grave, searching for air and life and warmth and breath. The men paused, looked at the knife.  
  
"It will be our treasure only when Jack Sparrow and his men are dead," Snow Curtis said, quietly but with the air of spitting out every word that he uttered.  
  
The crew cheered, and Johnnieboy smiled. Snow Curtis looked around the room at his men, his eyes cold, the flesh around them devoid of smile or laugh lines.  
  
"It has begun, then," he said matter-of-factly, and then went into his private cabin and to bed. 


	14. Chapter Thirteen

~~~~~Chapter Thirteen ~  
  
~~  
  
~~~  
  
~~  
  
~  
  
THEY HAD BEEN LYING IN WAIT FOR NIGH ON THREE DAYS NOW, WATCHING FOR THE SHIP THAT HAD TO COME. The island of Tortuga was a mountainous one, and the crevices along the shoreline were many. It was easy for a ship to hide.  
  
Snow Curtis lowered the telescope and began to crawl back down the embankment. Steelbreath, a thick man with good eyes, had discovered the ridge earlier that morning. It was perfect to use as a vantage point. A natural overhang of rock covered the viewer, but there was still room enough to watch the harbor of Tortuga.  
  
The image of the Black Pearl had been drilled into Snow Curtis's memory ever since his father and wife had died. Now, as he gazed upon the ashes of what once had been a pirate stronghold, his mind reviewed the small things that made the Black Pearl stand out among other ships.  
  
There were five ships in the harbor. The crew of two had glanced at the remains and had set anchor for the night. One had come within view of the ruined town, and had immediately turned around to seek another destination. The last two had stayed, seeking shelter in the eastern half of Tortuga, which had not been touched by the flames.  
  
In the fading light Snow Curtis picked out shadows creeping among the wood and charred metal in the western half. Scavengers, he knew, and grinned. They were like crows picking a dead carcass apart as the rest of the herd watched in agony. His brothers.  
  
A chuckle sounded, low and deep in his throat, and soon it reached his belly and his lungs filled with air and Snow Curtis Nelson laughed, laughed like he never had before and never would again. It was sadistic, the strains reaching down the cliffs like tendrils of fog contaminating the champagne light, dancing with the shadows on the sea.  
  
Scale, working side by side with Hopper and Animal scrubbing the deck, paused momentarily in their work, listening to the haunting strains lilting down the cliff before all three men collectively shuddered and returned to the suds covering the polished wood that the ships of the British Navy so often boasted.  
  
= = =  
  
"No."  
  
Natalie and Christian stood behind Jack and Will.  
  
"No," Jack said again, his hands gripping the rail of the ship hard. Natalie was sure that his fingers were cramping.  
  
"Jack . . ." Will said.  
  
"Who did this?" Jack asked. His voice was calm, smooth and monotonous.  
  
"Captain, sir!" Gibbs ran up on deck and saw the sight of Tortuga, burned. "Captain?"  
  
"Son of a bitch," Jack spat out vehemently. "Who did this?"  
  
Molly came up on deck and gasped. She placed a hand on Will's tense shoulder.  
  
"All o' that rum!" Gibbs said quietly, in shock.  
  
Natalie turned away from the smoking ruin that had been home to her. Christian followed her down to the stern of the ship.  
  
"Natalie?"  
  
"I'll kill whoever did it."  
  
"Natalie. . ." Christian's voice was tired. "They can rebuild it."  
  
"It's not that." Natalie turned to him. "I knew people there, you know. Good men. Good pirates."  
  
Christian bowed his head.  
  
"Jack'll catch the bastard," Natalie said bitterly. "I'll do whatever I can to 'elp him." 


End file.
